


Promotion

by Endgames



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Hogwarts Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3314864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endgames/pseuds/Endgames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is <em>the</em> one with <em>the</em> power to defeat the Dark Lord. As in, the <em>only</em> one with the ability to do so. Featuring everyone being a bit smarter, and an education system that makes more sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dead Travel Fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Did Hagrid take nearly twenty-four hours to travel from Godric’s Hollow to Surrey? Then I don't own Harry Potter.
> 
> My eternal thanks to Snowyiris129 for being the best beta ever.

_The horned-horse gallops faster than the rest._  
 _She accepts the approach of maidens the best._  
 _Should the marsh-horse choose, on land she will go._  
 _Trust not her shape, she’s a devil from below._  
 _The feathered-horse seldom allows any to ride._  
 _Swallowing drink, though, allows her to swallow her pride._  
 _But fear the skeletal-horse, the Reaper’s own steed._  
 _A price she’ll extract if you go to her in need._  
 _A bit of blood may suffice if you have but to travel faster._  
 _Should she save your life, though, you’ll be closer to her master._

OoOoOoOoO

“ _Confringo!_ ”

Fabian deflected the Death Eater’s Blasting Curse and responded with a spray of conjured darts. Two of the masked figures were struck in the legs, but the rest shielded or ducked behind cover. Fabian capitalized on the momentary breather by animating a large tree to behave in a manner reminiscent of the Whomping Willow.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

The elder twin was forced to duck under the curse, disrupting his animation. Wand poised, he turned towards the newcomer, only for his eyes to widen in shock.

“ _He_ is here! Gideon, signal Dumbledore!”

Gideon grunted an acknowledgement from behind an overturned stone bench. His legs were bent at impossible angles and his wand arm was badly burned. However, he was still managing to shield his position and fire curses at any Death Eaters that moved into his field of view. Pushing back the sleeve on his left arm, the wizard tapped the centre stone on an odd, watch-shaped device. As the stone flashed bright red, Gideon noticed that three of the surrounding pebbles were already orange. Likely the rest of the Order was already tied up in battles of their own.

Gideon dropped his sleeve and crawled around the side of his cover. His appearance startled one Death Eater into shielding, but the other one in view caught a cutter to the chest. The first Death Eater trained his wand on the mobility-impaired Order member and cast the Killing Curse with a sneer in his voice.

Gideon’s conjured slab of shale only a few feet from the Death Eater came as a surprise to the caster. Some of the shrapnel exploded towards the caster, shredding his robes and cutting his face badly. Gideon took some satisfaction in dropping the injured wizard with a Stunner to the leg, but his mood darkened as he saw the red-eyed figure hit his brother with a Cruciatus. Rolling to get a clear shot, Gideon cast a powerful Shield-Breaker, and followed up with a Heart-Stopper. The younger Prewett never saw the Reductor Curse headed for his chest.

Dumbledore arrived in a flash of flame as both Fabian and his torturer rolled to their feet. Dumbledore noticed a few dark figures around the property perimeter complete a short chant, and felt the anti-creature wards snap into being. He realized that this was a trap made specifically for him and Fawkes.

“No need to be rude, Tom,” the old wizard said casually, “you need only ask and I’ll stay.” Dumbledore failed to notice the Death Eater behind him pressing his wand into his uncovered left arm.

The duel began again in earnest. Where the two titans clashed, fire and lightening broke against tree and stone. Three of the remaining Death Eaters converged on the exhausted Fabian, while a single one remained back, trying to knock the fiery bird out of the air. Dumbledore decapitated three conjured snakes with one spell and used their bodies to bind his opponent. He was gaining the upper hand in this duel, even more so than ever before. He supposed that Voldemort must have exhausted himself somehow prior to the Headmaster’s arrival. The Prewetts must have put up quite the fight.

Suddenly the Knut dropped and the old wizard’s blood ran cold. The Protean watch he wore on his wrist heated sharply. He knew, without looking, that another one of the stones would have flared red. Dumbledore chanced a glance down as the imposter Riddle vanished the snake bindings. His heart sank as he saw that the red stone was the one tied to Lily Potter’s control.

There was only one combat-ready Order member not currently involved in a battle. Dumbledore spun to point his wand north. Summoning his power to give the messenger speed and range, he cast his spell. The winged silvery blur streaked off as the Death Eaters managed to overcome Fabian in his moment of distraction. The Headmaster turned back to the fight, intent on breaking out of these wards as quickly as possible.

OoOoOoOoO

Hagrid raced towards the Forbidden Forest as fast as his thick legs could carry him. Dumbledore’s message had been terse, “Voldemort at the Potter’s. Get them to Hogwarts.” Their floo was blocked, Hagrid couldn’t apparate, and Portkeys didn’t work for him. The next-best method of travel left much to be desired, but it was sufficiently important to assume the risks. Hagrid only hoped that the thick slab of Auroch meat over his shoulder would be enough to appease them.

Lacking the time to let the smell of blood draw them in, Hagrid let out a shrieking cry as he ran through the trees. Following the answering cry, the half-giant burst into a clearing to see several of the dark horses staring at him, their eyes level with his. Hagrid thrust the meat at the nearest mare, before speaking to the largest animal. “Hello, Tenebrus. I need ter be gettin’ somewhere in a hurry. Will yeh give me a ride?”

The Thestral stared into Hagrid’s eyes as if measuring his haste. Then, fast as a striking snake, the Tenebrus’ jaws latched on to the large man’s bicep. Hagrid felt his normally tough skin puncture, but didn’t pull away as abnormal amounts of blood flowed into the creature’s throat. After several long moments, the fangs disengaged and Hagrid clambered onto his mount’s back.

A single flap of its enormous wings saw the skeletal horse and its passenger airborne. Then, with aerodynamically impossible speed, the pair flew off to the south.

OoOoOoOoO

Sirius Black jumped backwards and stumbled as a huge fist slammed into the cobblestones where he stood a moment ago. _Something that big_ , he thought, _should not be allowed to be that fast. Or strong. Or hard to kill_. He rammed another overpowered Bone-Breaker into the giant’s kneecap and was unsurprised to see it have no effect.

The Auror standard operating procedure for dealing with giants was to keep moving, get some elevation, and cast at vulnerable flesh. Of course, normally giants wandered into some backwater village, not the middle of Muggle Exeter. Normally, there wasn’t an Anti-Apparition ward in place. And normally there wasn’t a rather accurate Death Eater in the skies, picking off any Auror who went above roof-level. Sirius and Alice were providing the close range distraction, while the third of their group stayed back to aim more accurately. However, darkness and the confusion of combat made striking the giant’s eyes like trying to hit a snitch in a thunderstorm.

Sirius felt his Order-watch heat up and he chanced a glance down. Hopefully, Dumbledore would be able to help the Prewetts. Sirius couldn’t leave his squad to deal with this by themselves. A block up the street, a loud roar sounded. It seemed like another squad managed to take out an eye on one of the other giants. Sirius had some catching up to do. He passed by Alice while dodging another stomp and shouted, “Quicksand under the feet! I’ve got left!”

A moment later, their target was sinking into the street as Sirius and Alice strained to maintain the large transfiguration at sufficient range to avoid his flailing limbs. They weren’t optimistic enough to hope that it would hold the giant, but it did bring his head down closer to wand level. The hulking figure toppled forward onto his hands and roared his defiance at Sirius. Seeing his chance, Sirius drew a line with his wand from street to giant and incanted, “ _Waddiwasi!_ ” A fist-sized stone flew towards the giant’s mouth, and Sirius managed to tag it with a modified Doubling Charm just as it passed the teeth. Though the charm was not as potent the Gemino Curse, its effects should still significantly inconvenience the giant.

The giant reacted instinctively to something hitting the back of his tongue and swallowed. He proceeded to crack open the street as he pulled his feet out of the reverted pavement, but only managed to move one step before doubling over and throwing up stones.

“ _Confringo!_ ” Alice was standing directly under the giant’s eye socket when she fired the curse. The resulting blast blew out the giant’s other eye from within and knocked Alice to the street with her legs twisted under her. Sirius felt faint from maintaining the Doubling Charm for so long, but raced over to Alice as fast as he could. He tapped her Portkey to St Mungo’s with his wand, and then hunched over to catch his breath.

Glancing down, he saw that another stone in his watch had turned red. _That doesn’t make any sense_ , he thought. _Voldemort can’t be in two... Shit! That’s Lily’s rock. I’ve got to get to Prongs’!_

Looking up, Sirius watched his other team member hurry towards the groups fighting the other two giants. His stomach twisted as he made the decision to abandon his post and leave the rest of the Aurors to deal with this disaster. Some things were just more important. Grimacing, he pulled a miniature motorcycle out of his pocket and enlarged it. He kicked the old bike into life and roared off in the opposite direction. He needed to get clear of these wards before he could apparate.

OoOoOoOoO

Hagrid eased his weight forward on the motorcycle, pushing it into a gentle dive. He definitely preferred this method of travel. He didn’t have the balance for brooms, even if any of them could handle his weight. He liked flying carpets, but they were outlawed now. And the Knight Bus was almost as bad as those damned Gringotts carts. The bike was a bit on the small side, but held him well enough. It also rode like a dream and roared like a dragon. He was grateful that Sirius had lent it to him before running off to check on Peter.

The motorcycle landed with a thump on the path to Hogwarts. Hagrid parked it next to the gates and reached into an inner pocket, being extra careful with that side of his coat. The Keeper of the Keys job was largely ceremonial, but it did leave him with the actual gate key to the grounds. Unlocking the large gates, Hagrid rolled the bike past a few wandering Thestrals towards his cabin.

After parking, Hagrid gingerly reached into the owl-pocket of his coat and pulled out a restless baby. The charm the groundskeeper used on Unicorn foals worked well enough to put little Harry down for a nap, but his sleep didn’t seem to be very peaceful. Pulling a very thick wand out of another pocket, Hagrid waved it over Harry and said, “ _Finite Incantatem._ ”

The squalls of an unhappy child soon filled the air. “Don’ you cry, Harry. I’ve got yeh now. You-Know-Who can’ get you no more. I’ve got yeh…” The larger man’s voice broke as the tears he’d been holding back rolled down his cheeks. He sat down, slumping against the side of his cabin.

One of the Thestral mares came over to inspect Hagrid’s burden, and was sniffing at Harry curiously. Harry’s crying started to abate as he reached out towards the snuffling sound. His stomache gave a loud gurgle and Hagrid chuckled.

“Poor little tyke. Yer jus’ hungry. Let’s get you sommat ter eat. I’ll jus’ whip up…” Hagrid paused, thinking. His usual fare this time of the year was roast Auroch, a fairly tough meat. All his pumpkins were currently decorating the castle, and nothing else was still growing in his garden. The students who visited him liked his rock cakes and treacle tart, but somehow he didn’t think Harry would enjoy them.

“S’pose we could trek back ter the castle an’ wake up the elves. Little buggers always getting’ underfoot… Wha’re you lookin’ at?” The Thestral had switched its attention from Harry to Hagrid, looking him straight in the eye. The mare had given birth last month, and her foal had recently learned to unfurl his wings. Hagrid glanced down to see her full teats hanging under her body.

“Well…if yer alrigh’ with it, I guess it can’ do ‘im no harm,” Hagrid said, lifting Harry towards the dark horse’s underside. Harry was confused at first, but then drank greedily once he latched on. Hagrid was encouraged to see the rather unsociable Thestrals taking to the boy so readily. “Yer gonna be great with animals someday, Harry,” he said proudly.

As child fed from beast, the clouds slowly parted to reveal the stars. The Centaurs in the forest looked skyward, sensing great portents in the heavens. Most sighed in relief as Mars dimmed from its recent brilliance. Fewer noted Betelgeuse shining brightly as it rose over the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Auroch meat is a reference to Ectomancer by RustyRed. Interesting story, though sadly abandoned.


	2. Cleaning Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Did Sirius “tracking down” Pettigrew make it sound like he followed his scent into a crowded Muggle area? Then I don’t own Harry Potter.
> 
> My eternal thanks to Snowyiris129 for being the best beta ever.

_“Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.”_ – Thomas Jefferson

OoOoOoOoO

Sirius opened his eyes and looked around blearily. His body ached from the fight with the giants last night, and he still felt drained from the hunt afterwards. Tears accumulated in his eyes as he recalled the scene from last night. James and Lily’s house, gutted. James’ body downstairs, looking like it had been through a meat grinder. Lily’s body upstairs, displaying the glassy stare that Sirius had become far too familiar with. At least he had seen Harry, and Hagrid would have gotten him safely to Hogwarts.

Sirius’ subsequent memories were a blur of apparating and searching. Peter’s house was locked, empty, and looked untouched. Frank, Alice, Diggle, Aberforth, and Arthur hadn’t seen him. He was not at any of the parties in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. Sirius had finally splinched himself in Diagon out of sheer exhaustion. Thankfully, there was a somewhat sober Ministry worker nearby who managed to fix his foot back on. Sirius had risked only one more jump to Remus’ place, which was also empty, before collapsing on the couch.

Now awake, Sirius figured he should go see if Dumbledore could help him find Peter. He should at least be able to give Sirius a more complete picture of the events of last night. No doubt the Chief Warlock was at the Ministry, trying to make the best out of the situation. Sirius moved outside of Remus’ property boundary and disapparated with a pop.

Reappearing in the atrium, Sirius strode purposefully towards the wand checkpoint. Security had been beefed up in recent years, so everyone was subjected to wand checks and jabs with various probes upon entrance. The wizard started to move towards the expedited entrance that Aurors were allowed to use, but did a double-take. Lucius Malfoy exited the lifts like he owned the place, sauntering towards the exit. Sirius watched him, completely dumbfounded. Last time he saw the blond ponce, he was holding Marlene McKinnon hostage. Sirius knew that the Aurors had a general warrant out on him for Death Eater activity. The man must have been acquitted to just walk out like this.

Something clicked in Sirius’ mind. The man was suspected to be a major information-broker and influence-peddler for the other side. If anyone knew about Peter, it would be him. Sirius felt bad that he was actually hoping his friend was dead – better that than a traitor.

Lucius changed course from the Disapparition Point to the wall of fireplaces. Sirius followed him, keeping a few people in line between them. He heard Lucius call out “Diagon Alley,” and hurried to do the same when his turn came.

Sirius stepped out of the fireplace just in time to see blond hair whipping out of the Leaky Cauldron’s front door. _Why would Malfoy be heading into Muggle London?_ Sirius wondered. Discreetly drawing his wand, Sirius followed, dropping a Disillusionment Charm on himself before stepping out the door.

Lucius walked a few blocks before suddenly turning down a side alley. Figuring he wouldn’t get a better chance, Sirius rounded the corner with a Stunning Spell on his lips. An empty street greeted Sirius’ eyes for a moment, before everything went dark.

OoOoOoOoO

Sirius awoke, chained to a chair, with the unpleasant sensation of Veritaserum coating his tongue and clouding his mind. He was supremely disinterested in his surroundings, but peripherally noted the presence of a host of people in the courtroom.

“What is your name?” a voice asked.

“Sirius Phineas Black, the Third.” Sirius answered, monotonously.

“Are you a Death Eater?” the voice continued.

“No.” Sirius responded.

“Have you passed information to the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord?”

“Yes.” Sirius said. A small part of his brain began to feel worried.

“What information did you pass to the Death Eaters?”

“The location of a fake safe house. Several fake daily agendas for the Minister. Information that some Aurors were on-duty when they were out hurt or sick. Saying that Voldemort was a Muggle-born. Saying that my brother was a poofter…”

“Did you pass on any _accurate_ information to the Death Eaters?”

“No.”

“What information did you pass on to the Dark Lord?”

“His mother’s chosen profession.”

“What?” The voice sounded confused. “Clarify your statement.”

“Told him that his mother was a whore when trying to distract him.” Sirius’ addled brain didn’t prevent a faint smile crossing his lips. It fell away at the next question.

“Who was the Secret-Keeper for the Fidelius Charm over Lily and James Potter’s house?”

“I… I don’t know.” Sirius’ mind sluggishly objected. He thought that he _should_ know that.

“Were you the Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm over Lily and James Potter’s house?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could you have been obliviated of the knowledge?”

“Maybe.”

“Were you involved in the planning of the casting of the Fidelius Charm over Lily and James Potter’s house?”

“Er… yes.”

“Who did Lily and James Potter pick as their Secret Keeper?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who did they plan to pick as their Secret Keeper?”

“Me… I think.”

“Did you kill Peter Pettigrew?”

“Yes.” That, at least, Sirius remembered. He had been in Muggle London. He saw Peter. Peter turned, looked back at Sirius, and gave him an evil smile.

“Why did you kill Peter Pettigrew?”

“I saw him… I was angry. He did… something…” Here Sirius was more confused. Peter had smiled. Sirius felt rage like he had never felt before. There was a reason. Something he couldn’t remember. _Traitor_ , his mind whispered, but the questioner was moving on.

“Did you kill Peter Pettigrew in full view of Muggles?”

“Yes.”

“Did you target Muggles as well?”

“No.”

“Did you kill Muggles too?”

“Yes. At least a couple were too close.” He hadn’t meant to kill them. He was just so angry. The Explosive Curse flew from his wand without him even thinking. Then there was pressure and pain. He had been knocked onto his back. He couldn’t stop laughing. There was nothing funny about the situation, but he couldn’t stop laughing. Then there were the pops of apparition around him and darkness claimed him once more.

A different voice spoke, “In light of the testimony of Sirius Black and Alastor Moody, and evidence provided by Black’s wand and several Muggle eyewitness accounts, I call for a vote on the charges of thirteen counts of murder and a breach of the International Statute of Secrecy. Raise your hand to cast a guilty vote.”

Malfoy looked around him, hiding his smugness under an indifferent mask. He did not raise his hand. There was no need.

“Sirius Black is found to be guilty,” the Head of Magical Law Enforcement said, after noting a clear majority. “Raise your hand to cast a vote for a sentence of life in Azkaban.”

Again, a sea of hands rose. Aurors stepped forward to bind Black and drag him to prison. Lucius sat back, pleased with the result. His mother-in-law and her sisters and cousins were long past child-bearing age. Andromeda was disowned. Bellatrix was a known Death Eater, and wouldn’t be able to slip by the system the way he had. The remnants of the Black wealth and properties would pass on to his wife by default, and he barely had to lift his wand. A few memory charms, a tricky animation, and a couple of mood-altering charms were all it took. Black neutralized himself and took Pettigrew off of Lucius’ hands too. Today was a good day.

OoOoOoOoO

Hagrid was spoon-feeding some porridge to a sleepy Harry in the Great Hall when the Headmaster entered with two Ministry workers. Leading them over to the seated pair, Dumbledore said, “I’m glad to see you and young Harry doing well, Rubeus. Did he have any problems last night?”

“Good mornin’, Pr’fessor Dumbledore, sir. He on’y had a small cut on his head, an’ tha’s healed up fine. He’s been a right angel so far.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. These gentlemen are here to see Harry placed in a new home.”

“Alrigh’. Jus’ lemme say goodbye to ‘im.” The half-giant wiped the porridge off Harry’s face with a gentleness that belied his size. Then, after giving the child a very scratchy kiss on the nose, Hagrid passed the boy over to the Magical Child Services representative.

“Thank you, Mr Hagrid. We’ll be getting young Mr Potter to his next of kin now.” The two wizards turned and left, the one holding Harry already waving a stuffed animal in front of the child to entertain him.

Dumbledore chose to take advantage of the small pause in his duties to break his day-long fast. Sitting next to the Groundskeeper, Dumbledore said, “Thank you for caring for Harry all night, Hagrid. I apologise for not arriving at the Potters’ before you left.”

“I’m jus’ sorry I couldn’ get there in time ter help Lily an’ James,” Hagrid replied, his face turning distraught. “Least they got tha’ bastard in the end.”

“Indeed,” the older wizard said. “All we can do now is to try to clean up our society as best we can.”

OoOoOoOoO

Alice looked up and smiled as the Healer entered her ward. Her leg bones were still regrowing and her right arm was encased in potion-soaked bandages to repair her skin. She was feeling a good amount of pins and needles from the Skele-Gro, but knew that she had gotten off lucky the previous night.

The healer stepped over to her bedside and said, “Let’s see how you are doing today, Mrs Longbottom.” The witch in green robes bent down to check the bandages, then held her wand over Alice’s torso. Prepared for the uncomfortable feeling of a diagnostic charm, Alice was rather surprised when a red light impacted her chest. Then there was only darkness.

OoOoOoOoO

An hour later, Frank walked into his wife’s room at St Mungo’s, and smiled when he saw she was awake. “Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling today?” he asked.

“I’m alright,” she replied. “What’s the news?”

Frank chuckled at his wife’s eagerness, before his visage turned serious. “Sirius was just sent to Azkaban. Seems like he gave the Potters up willingly, then killed Peter and a few Muggles.” Frank sat down and his head sunk into his hands. “It seemed like he’d gotten someone to obliviate the knowledge from him, but they did a real sloppy job. Hmph, might have even tried a self-obliviate. It’d be the kind of thing he’d do.”

Frank glanced up and caught the shocked look on his wife’s face. “I know,” he said, “I wouldn’t have thought it either. But you know what they say, ‘Blood will out.’”

“Yes,” she responded, “I suppose it will.”

Catching her odd tone, Frank looked closer at his wife’s face. He missed seeing the wand in her hand that had been hidden under her loose bandages. A silent Stunner left Frank slumping over on to the hospital bed. Standing quickly, the witch grabbed him tightly and turned, apparating the both of them out of St Mungo’s.

OoOoOoOoO

“What happened?” questioned the gruff voice of Alastor Moody. The woman on the bed looked up at the grizzled Auror and grimaced.

“I’m not sure,” Healer McLaggen said. “I was just passing through the Cyprian Youdle Ward when I lost consciousness. I woke up twenty minutes ago, locked in an empty room, missing most of my clothes and my wand.

Moody turned to look at Auror Dawlish. “Someone wanted to impersonate a healer. Go grab an admin and get a list of all patients currently admitted. Note any that might be a target. And watch your back around Healers!” he called as the young Auror ran off.

Turning back to McLaggen, Moody continued, “We may as well start with your patients. Who were you in charge of?”

“I mostly handled the Youdle Ward, but had a couple patients outside of it. Inside were Samantha Winnows, George Ogden, Nobby Leach, and Hilliard Hobday. Outside were Molly Weasley and Alice Longbottom. Also, Abigail Vane in maternity.”

“Leach?” Moody said, surprise colouring his tone. “Alright, Savage, Smith, you go to former Minister Leach. Franklin, you go to Weasley and Longbottom. Verify identities and tell them not to take any potions unless verified by two other Healers first. Tell them the situation and makes sure they’re vigilant.” The scarred Auror turned back towards Healer McLaggen and began a couple diagnostic charms to make sure she wasn’t hurt, cursed, charmed, poisoned, potioned, or likely to explode.

A few minutes later, Auror Franklin ran back in and called out to Moody, “Alice Longbottom is gone. No sign of a struggle, but her room is empty. I locked it and put Smith on guard.”

“Shite,” Moody eloquently responded. “Get a forensic team from headquarters, and make sure that Ambali Mina is with them. I’ll do a preliminary finding.”

Moody moved as fast as he could to the fourth floor and entered Alice’s room. He set up two silver reflexive foci in the far corners of the room. Ensuring that he included the bed in the triangle, he stood at the third point and initiated an Ostendo Praecantatio Reliquum ritual. The results weren’t as strong as if there were three casters, but Moody was sufficiently powerful to do this on his own, and it would contaminate the scene less by having only one caster.

“Smith, take notes,” Moody called out. “I see two stunners, two Disapparitions, a lot of potions I don’t recognize, a small conjuration, some older diagnostic charms… oh, that’s interesting – some Polyjuice as well. There may be some illusion magic too, but it’s either older, or not cast within the ritual field.”

“Yes, sir,” Auror Smith responded. “When Mina gets here, I’ll get her started on tracking the apparitions. If they side-alonged Alice after stunning her, it’s likely that they only took one or two hops. We may get lucky, sir.”

“Plan for the worst, son,” Moody replied. “Call a second tracer here in case they split up. We’ll catch them yet.”

OoOoOoOoO

“ _Crucio_.”

“Stop! Please! We’ve told you everything we know!”

“You expect me to believe that a Mudblood whore killed the greatest wizard that ever lived? What did Dumbledore do? Tell me, or your bitch gets another taste.”

“Dumbledore didn’t do anything. He didn’t even cast the Fidelius. Lily must have set a trap. That’s what everyone’s been say–“

“ _Crucio_.”

“Enough. Bellatrix, take watch from Barty. Fine then, Longbottom, what did ‘Lily’ do?”

“I-I-I don’ know. W-we haven’t talked t-to them in weeks.”

“That’s not what I want to hear. I want to hear everything you know about them. Otherwise I’m going to have to let Barty here do what he wants. And he’s really repressed.”

“They were under a F-Fidelius. They d-didn’t ev-ven set up-p active defens-ses. They trusted S-S-Sirius w-with their Secret.”

“Barty…”

“No! Don’t c-c-curse him. I… m-maybe they had f-f-friends over. M-maybe they ambushed him. M-maybe Moody was there.”

“Maybe? Maybe! I want answers, bitch! How could they kill my master? Where is his BODY? _Crucio_!”

“STOP! Please! Just s-s-stop.”

“Seems like you really don’t know, huh? Since Rodolphus got himself caught by Dumbledore, maybe we should let Barty get some practice in?”

“N-n-no we’ll t-t-tell an’thing. P-p-please…”

“What else do you know then? If you don’t tell me I can’t stop them.”

“I… I… _hic_ … Dumb-b-bled-dore… _hic_ … s-s-sug-gested the F-F-Fidelius… _hic_ ”

“You said that already. Barty…”

“I’ll keeping watch. Bellatrix can handle them.”

“Barty, are you being a little baby again? You faffed around enough about joining up. Now you won’t take part? Get over here and curse her you fucking twat.”

“Fine. _Crucio_.”

“Rrrrgh…”

“You little Nancy boy. You have to mean it. You have to want it, to relish in their pain. _Crucio._ ”

“AAAAARRRRRGHH!”

“ _Crucio_.”

“What, Barty? Still having performance issues? Or do you like her too much to curse her? Would you rather do something else to her?”

“D-d-don’t t-touch-ch h–“

“ _Crucio_.”

“Mmmrrrrrrnnnn…”

“I don’t… I… Shut up, Bellatrix.”

“Oh, right… you’d prefer him, wouldn’t you? That’s why your old man hates you. Well don’t let me stop you. _Crucio_.”

“Waaaaaaarrrrrrr…”

“Bellatrix! Fuck! Wards are up! We’ve got to go!”

“They found us? How?”

“ _Portus._ Shit. Doesn’t matter, run out the back.”

“No! I can’t get caught! Father would… he’d–“

“Shut up, Barty! Grab a hosta–“

Four Reductor Curses flew in the windows and impacted on three shields. Glass blanketed the floor as the door blew in and Stunners sprayed the room. The three Death Eaters formed a tight line, with Rabastan and Barty shielding, and Bellatrix in the middle, dealing out death.

The Aurors at the doorway fell back from the explosions and shielded themselves from the shrapnel. Bellatrix swished her wand and animated some of the glass to run around the corner at the Aurors and explode.

Suddenly, a purple flame erupted from nowhere, bisected the witch’s wand, and sliced her arm to the bone. Barty turned towards the source of the spell, but a hunk of banished glass embedded itself in his back before exploding. Rabastan dove towards Alice and tried to pull her still-spasming body over his. He was dropped by four stunners, while two more took down Bellatrix. Barty Crouch Jr was shortly put out of his pain-filled state of consciousness as well.

Moody verified the lack of further hostiles with a Homenum Revelio, before dropping his Disillusionment. He grimaced, looking at the bloody scene. Directing two of his Aurors to get the Longbottoms back to St Mungo’s, he started the unpleasant task of giving medical aid to the Death Eaters.

OoOoOoOoO

“Isn’t there someone else who can do it?” Vernon demanded. “I don’t want you involved in that world!”

“There isn’t anyone left, Vernon.” Petunia responded soothingly. “Their kid’s godfather is in prison, godmother is in a coma, their wills’ executor has disappeared, and their last close friend is dead. Like it or not, I’m Lily’s only family, and there’s no one on her husband’s side. I’m the only one who can take him.”

“Can’t their _government_ ,” Vernon spat the word, “just handle it all?”

“Probably…” Petunia said, thinking it over. “But they’d take a chunk of the estate for sure. This way, we get some control over where everything goes. I think I remember my civics lecturer saying that anything willed to dead people or unclaimed after some amount of time may be at the discretion of the executor to disperse.”

The thought of a potential influx of cash gave Vernon pause, and he sunk into an arm chair. “And the boy?” he asked.

“Well, he’ll inherit the bulk, of course. But I’d think that a stipend would be set up for his care. It would go to his guardians, obviously.” Petunia watched her husband warily to see his reaction.

Vernon sighed heavily. “Fine. Contact someone from their side – a lawyer if they have such people – to help track down the people you need. Tell them we’ll take the boy.” Vernon paused for a moment, and then said in a softer tone, “I know you didn’t get along with your sister, but if you want to visit her grave or something, we can.”

Petunia sent her husband a small smile and kissed him on the cheek before heading to the phone. At least for wills and such, their world worked with the real government, and Petunia could just call them. She shuddered at the thought of having to do all this with owls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ostendo Praecantatio Reliquum – show magic residue
> 
> I know that Petunia’s claims regarding wills are likely completely wrong. Note that this is just something she thinks she remembers from a lecture a while ago, so it is not necessarily accurate.
> 
> In my vision of this world, questioning of suspects is usually done prior to the trial, and Veritaserum isn’t normally used in the courtroom at all. Recall that many people were freed from the Imperious after Voldemort died, and that several Death Eaters gave up names for reduced sentences. I’d imagine that there would be a lot of trials in quick succession. With many of the Aurors tied up in patrolling, guarding, capturing, and cleaning up, there wouldn’t be many around to conduct the questionings. So they might convene a special war-crimes Wizengamot session that handles questioning, convicting, and sentencing all in one go.


	3. Minimal Exposure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Does Harry accidentally perform NEWT-level transfiguration and Apparition pre-Hogwarts? Then I don’t own Harry Potter.

_“Rejoice, and men will seek you;_  
_Grieve, and they turn and go;_  
_They want full measure of all your pleasure,_  
_But they do not need your woe._  
_Be glad, and your friends are many;_  
_Be sad, and you lose them all,–_  
_There are none to decline your nectared wine,_  
_But alone you must drink life’s gall.”_

– from Solitude by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

OoOoOoOoO

Harry clambered awkwardly out of the shower and towelled off quickly. He donned black slacks and his favourite oversized grey shirt, before sliding his glasses onto his face. Looking into the mirror, he combed his long bangs straight before exiting the bathroom. Harry really liked his glasses. They felt like a little shield between him and the world – as if he was just watching the telly.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Harry sat in his normal seat and ate his eggs and toast. When finished, he moved to wash and put away his plate. Dudley walked into the room, eyes lighting up at the sight of bacon on his plate.

“Morning, Harry!” the larger boy said loudly. Harry twitched slightly at the loud noise, but relaxed when Aunt Petunia only sniffed at the declaration. Harry turned and gave his cousin a tight smile, but didn’t say anything in response. Quickly moving out of the kitchen, Harry began gathering his school supplies. He was both hopeful and a little fearful of his first day. He had never been as far away from the house as the school was before.

Prior to heading out the door, Aunt Petunia stopped the two boys. She spoke to both of them, but fixed Harry with a glare as she did so. “You _will_ behave yourselves at school today. I _don’t_ want to be called back in because of anything _unusual_.”

Harry nodded, and kept his eyes on his shoes. Dudley chirped, “Yes, Mum. We’ll be fine.” He turned and pulled Harry out the door and down the path, while Petunia followed at a more sedate pace. The walk to school was punctuated by Dudley babbling happily about the boxing match from last night.

Harry moved closer and closer to Dudley as they followed Aunt Petunia farther into the school building. Upon arriving at the doorway to their classroom, Harry froze, actually clinging to Dudley’s arm. There were so many kids and parents there, and they were all making so much noise. Harry had never seen so many people in one place before. He felt as though there were a hundred pairs of eyes that suddenly locked on to him, and his breath caught in his throat.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Dudly asked. “Why’d you stop?” Harry didn’t respond. Glancing around, Dudley saw a few of the other kids coming over to them. “C’mon Harry. You’re making me look bad.”

Dudley pulled his arm loose from Harry’s grip, before steering the nearly catatonic boy over to a desk. Petunia had gone up front to talk with the teacher. Dudley pushed his still-frozen cousin down into the chair and strode off to talk with some of his friends.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry was dreading getting home. Dudley had been teasing his cousin ever since he had heard. “You’ll be in trouble. You’re gonna get in trouble,” he taunted in a sing-song voice. Harry didn’t understand. Neither of his previous teachers had complained in the past two years. Why did this one suddenly have a problem with his long hair?

_Harry is a pleasant boy, but is also very quiet. He doesn’t participate very often, and with his hair over his eyes, I never know if he is paying attention._

Petunia glanced up after reading the dreaded sentence on his midterm report. Her eyes found Harry’s and she frowned severely. Her hand reached out and grabbed the kitchen scissors, making Harry wince.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since his last haircut, but he did know that he hated them. He had to stand, cold and naked, in the bathtub while his aunt tugged and chopped at his locks. He hated how she tsked and sniffed in disapproval over both the beginning and end result. Most of all, he hated how bad his hair looked afterwards, and how he could no longer hide behind his bangs.

This time was even worse than before. He guessed that because it had been so long since his last haircut, Aunt Petunia was trying to make up for lost time. She started cutting his hair very high on his head, and took his bangs completely off. The odd scar on his forehead was out in the open for everyone to point and laugh at. His head felt naked and cold. When he went to bed that night, he pulled the blanket up over him like a hood to try to ward off the feeling of being exposed.

The next day was the first time in a year that Harry had been put in timeout. He didn’t know how his hair grew back, but apparently it merited being shut in The Cupboard. He hated timeouts in The Cupboard most of all. There was a gap in the wall that went all the way down to the basement, so it was frigid in the winter. No light was visible, except through the keyhole. Worst of all were the spiders. Harry didn’t know what they looked like, how big they were, or how many there were, but he. Did. Not. Move. Once, when he was young, he tried brushing a spider off of him. The bite had been extremely painful and throbbed for the next week. Now, every tickle, itch, and skin-prickle felt like spiders stepping all over his body. Harry just sat as still as possible, hoping he’d be able to avoid angering them.

He usually was sent to The Cupboard for being a nuisance. He’d thrown a tantrum when he was three because he had wanted a piece of cake too. He’d tried to take Aunt Petunia’s hand at the doctor’s office when he was five. He’d knocked over a lamp and broke the bulb when he was six. He just hoped that they’d let him out for dinner this time.

OoOoOoOoO

By age nine, Harry had learned most of the tricks that would keep his life peaceful. While at home, Harry would stay up in his room as much as possible. After school, he would weed the garden, trim the hedge, or pick up sticks from the lawn to avoid his aunt yelling at him to do it. He would do his homework completely, but not remarkably. He needed the teachers to mark it as having no issues, but didn’t want any of that gold star or smiley face stuff. The less noticeable his homework, tests, and report cards were, the less time Aunt Petunia would pay attention to them. In class, he would look attentive, but only answer questions when called on.

Harry spent most breaks between classes with a book in the corner of the yard. He was usually joined by Joey, a curly-haired boy with braces, and Amber, a hefty girl with glasses. They found that the bullies mostly left the people in groups alone, and had naturally gravitated together. They rarely spoke, usually just reading books, playing cards, or drawing. Harry never saw either of them outside of break, and wasn’t even sure of their last names.

Harry expended quite a bit of effort trying to avoid the notice of the bigger kids. Last year, Dudley had told another kid about how much Harry liked his glasses. The kid and his friends had used the next few months trying to catch Harry alone and break his glasses. Aunt Petunia already had to buy him two pairs, each earning him a stay in The Cupboard. He was determined not to lose this set.

So Harry was understandably confused as to how he ended up on the sports field to play football. He blamed himself for dropping his guard around Dudley. The larger boy had ignored Harry’s protests and pulled him over to the field to be on the same team, all the while muttering warnings that Harry better not embarrass him. Dudley normally didn’t like being seen with Harry, but it seemed that some of the more popular kids had requested that Dudley get Harry specifically to play in this game. Harry’s stomach clenched in nervousness when he heard that piece of information.

His suspicions were proved justified. The opposing team moved down the field exclusively on Harry’s side. Harry was rather unskilled at both offense and defence, and so was unable to block passes or steal the ball. His smaller size didn’t do him any favours either, and he frequently seemed to find a leg tripping him or a hand shoving him away. Once the score hit five to nil, Harry’s team grouped around him.

“Why didn’t you block that?”

“Aren’t you on defence?”

“Are you really helping the other team?”

Their words blended together and Harry broke free of the circle and ran. Like dogs, several of the kids took off after him simply because he was running. Panicked, Harry rounded the school and headed for the rear entrance. If he could get inside before they caught him then he could probably get back to the classroom unscathed. He darted down the alley leading to the back door.

_Locked_. Harry’s panic rose to even greater heights. He could hear the pounding of footsteps. He was in a dead-end alley with no one around and nowhere to hide. Their voices were raised and jumbled, but Harry caught phrases like “run faster” and “catch him.” He crouched down behind a cinderblock, hoping desperately that they wouldn’t see him.

The first of his pursuers rounded the corner and paused. “Dang, he must have gotten into the building,” the boy said. Harry was confused. May he was blending in with his grey shirt. He stayed very still and tried to not breathe.

“C’mon. Let’s get back to the game. Maybe we can win now that Potter’s gone.”

The kids passed by the alley entrance, taking the shorter route back to the sports field. Harry moved cautiously towards the mouth of the alley, before hearing footsteps once again. Dudley puffed as he jogged up, clearly winded, and glanced down the alley. Relief coursing through him, Harry stepped up to his cousin and asked, “Are they gone now?”

Dudley’s eyes widened and he fell over in shock. Harry was confused when Dudley started pointing a finger at him and gibbering, “H-how d-did you do that?”

“Do what?” Harry replied, puzzled. He moved forward to help his cousin up.

“No!” Dudley shouted, scrambling to get away from Harry. “Stay away from me, freak!” The large boy ran off as fast as his weight allowed him to.

Harry felt crushed. He thought that Dudley would help. Dudley had never called him that before, not like his aunt and uncle did. Dudley, who had been his secret playmate all his life, now ran from him. What had Harry done?

Whatever it was, it was enough to make him keep the spiders company overnight for the first time.

OoOoOoOoO

Apparently Dudley had been doing something for Harry after all. He had been telling his group of friends to leave Harry alone. It hadn’t been sitting with Joey and Amber. It had been Dudley. Too bad he wasn’t doing it anymore.

Harry’s lunch was taken a couple times a week. Sometimes they didn’t even eat it; they just opened it and laughed at the boring collection of fruit before throwing it out. They would grab his bag and toss it around, empty it out, or throw it in the loo. Joey and Amber stopped sitting with Harry at break now that open season had been declared. He tried running to and from school to avoid the worst harassment times, but Harry was still small for his age and was easily caught. He learned different routes and hiding places. He found out when certain teachers entered the building and went in with them. He learned to blend in with the bus crowd.

A Wednesday morning found Harry standing next to the back door to the school, jiggling the handle. A group of bullies had lately been hanging out in front of the school. Harry could usually slip in with the bus riders in twenty minutes, but they’d sometimes catch his legs with theirs and send him sprawling in the middle of everyone. So Harry was trying to pick the lock to the back door to slip inside early.

He had read about people picking locks with hairpins in some fictional stories, but the first two mornings he had tried that, he’d succeeded only in destroying several hairgrips. He’d tried looking up locks in the library, and found something about pins and tumblers. Now he had a bent paperclip and a small screwdriver, and was poking around, trying to feel out the lock. Ten more minutes of effort and several barely-audible clicks later, Harry twisted the screwdriver hard and the lock clicked open. Flushed with success, Harry slipped into the building and moved towards his classroom. It felt good to have a win, in what seemed like a year full of losses.

OoOoOoOoO

Mr Harry Potter  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey 

Harry sat down on his bed and stared down at the letter in his hand. He received a letter. He never received mail. Oddly, it didn’t even have a stamp, just green ink lettering. Harry opened it carefully and shook out a sheet of parchment.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We are pleased to offer you a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We are a premier institution of magic, located in northern Scotland. We offer wanded, foci-less, and elective subjects, as well as a variety of sports, academics, and games clubs._

_Our core subjects are Charms, Transfiguration, Defensive Magics, Potions, Astronomy and Astrology, and History of Magic. We offer the electives of Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Magical Cultures, Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, Runes and Rituals, and Divination. We also have many clubs, frequently student-created and managed. Some of the most popular include the Charms Creation, Gobstones, Football, and Art clubs. The school sport is Quidditch, and matches occur during the Autumn and Spring months._

_Term begins on September 1, and ends on June 14. We require a response by July 31 to secure placement. To accept your position at Hogwarts, or to request more information, please reply by owl or send your response to Hogwarts’ Muggle mail address:_

_Hogwarts Premier Grammar School Information Office_  
37 Devon Court  
Achintee  
Lochaber 

_Thank you for your consideration. We look forward to your response._

_Yours sincerely,_  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress 

Harry reread the letter. It didn’t make any more sense the second time through. _Witchcraft? Magic? Transfiguration? Is this a joke?_ he thought. _They’re just making up words now. It’s not Dudley’s style though. Maybe Piers?_

He left the letter on his desk and walked downstairs, thankful that Dudley wasn’t up yet. Harry made his breakfast and ate quietly, before heading out early for school. He wanted to read a bit in the library before class started.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry raced back to his house. Normally he would leave through the back door of the school and cut through the woods to avoid any possible confrontations, but the letter had been weighing on his mind all day. No one had looked at him any differently than usual. No one had really looked at him at all. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. _What if it’s real? Worst case, I just get laughed at again._

Entering the house, Harry ran up to his room. He opened the door and gaped at his empty desk. The letter was missing. He checked around and under the battered table, but there was no sign of it.

“Boy,” said a female voice, surprising Harry. He hit his head on the underside of the desk in his hurry to stand up and turn around. Aunt Petunia stood in the doorway, a distasteful expression on her face, and Harry’s letter pinched between her thumb and forefinger. Harry froze. Aunt Petunia hadn’t focussed this much attention directly on him in months.

“I guess you’ll be going to this school then, too,” she said. Harry’s jaw would have dropped open if he wasn’t clenching it so hard. “Let’s get some things straight. I don’t want to see any freakishness. I don’t want to hear about any freakishness. You’ll keep all your stuff in your room.”

“It…it’s real?” Harry stammered out. Aunt Petunia looked a bit surprised, although he didn’t know if it was from him not knowing or from hearing his voice for the first time in a while.

“Yes,” she said succinctly. She held out Harry’s letter for him to take. When he reached for it, she also dropped something small and golden into his hand. “Here is your bank key. You’ll pay for school through the bank and get all supplies with your own money. We will drop you off in London for the train, and pick you up next summer. You will stay at school for the holidays.”

Aunt Petunia turned and left. Harry stayed staring at his doorframe, his hand tightly clutching his letter and little golden key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a reference to one of my favourite mangas, Iris Zero.  
>   
> It never made sense to me that Dudley runs the school (or even his year-group) if he really was rather fat, ugly, and stupid. It’d make more sense that he would be sucking up to the popular kids and trying to get into their group.


	4. A New Rock for the Limpet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Is the Knight Bus able to be called from anywhere in Britain, by accident, using a common gesture? Then I don’t own Harry Potter.  
>   
> Many thanks to Snowyiris129 for her improvements on my dialogue.

_Chan fhiach cuirm gun a còmhradh._  
_A feast is no use without good talk._  
– Gaelic Proverb

OoOoOoOoO

Harry was surprised when his aunt informed him that one of the professors from his new school was here to answer his questions. He hadn’t missed Aunt Petunia’s venomous look when she said that. She had specifically told him that she didn’t want any freakishness in the house, and Harry had only expected a written response to his query, not a teacher to come in person. He walked into the foyer and looked up at the woman standing there.

The older woman wore a sharp business suit and held herself stiffly. She turned and let her eyes drift over Harry, before offering her hand to shake.

“Good afternoon, Mr Potter,” she said. “I am Professor McGonagall.”

“Hello, Professor,” Harry responded, keeping his eyes on her hand as he shook it.

“I apologize for the miscommunication. Since your parents were Magical, and your aunt is aware of our world, I had assumed that you were made aware as well.”

Harry glanced up sharply at that, but dropped his gaze again when he heard Aunt Petunia sniff disparagingly behind him. “I prefer to keep myself as far from _your_ world as possible,” his aunt said to the professor.

“Indeed,” replied McGonagall. “Come along, Mr Potter. I will show you how to access the Magical World and tell you about Hogwarts in the meantime. Good day, Mrs Dursley.”

The professor sighed to herself as she walked the boy down to the street. Unfortunately, this type of reaction was not unfamiliar to Minerva and Pomona. The families of Muggle-borns most commonly reacted with excitement and eagerness to explore a new world. Fairly frequently, Muggle siblings would become jealous of the new witch or wizard. Sometimes though, especially amongst very religious people, the family would reject the abnormality introduced into their lives and ignore its existence as much as possible. She would need to show this prospective student how to get everywhere on his own, as parental support would clearly be lacking.

“Mr Potter, you can always use your usual transportation methods to get yourself to London, but there are faster options. I will hail the Knight Bus, which uses a somewhat alarming method of travel, but will get you to your destination quickly. Once you get your wand, I will teach you the spell to hail it on the way back. It is one of the few spells that magical children are allowed to use outside of school.”

Professor McGonagall held out her wand and enunciated clearly, “ _Voco Comitatus_.” Her other hand steadied Harry when he jumped back from the enormous purple monstrosity that popped into existence and screeched to a halt in front of them. She ushered Harry onto the bus and paid the driver with minimal fuss. Glancing at her young charge’s face, she knew that he was curious about the unfamiliar coins she had used. However, the Knight Bus was not the best place for conversation.

The bus started moving down the road, gathering speed, before… BANG! The bus was suddenly trundling down East Street in Epsom. Harry stared out the window with wide eyes. He glanced back at the professor, and she could see the questions in his expression, but he seemed too shy to articulate them. McGonagall took pity on him, and tried to answer his unspoken queries.

“There is a form of magical transportation called Apparition. You may have heard of the Muggle name for it – teleportation.” Seeing Harry’s recognition, she continued, “Usually, witches and wizards can only apparate themselves and maybe another person. This bus has been enchanted to be able to travel similarly, but carry more people. Most of the details are proprietary, but I do know that the bus needs to drive normally for a little while to build up the energy for another–“

BANG!

The bus screeched to a halt, and the conductor called out, “Diagon Alley!” Several other passengers stood with Harry the professor to disembark. They walked into the pub, and Professor McGonagall headed straight for the elderly bartender.

“Tom, can we get a table for two?” she asked.

“Certainly, Professor McGonagall. Right this way. Can I offer you anything?” the publican replied, ushering them to a table.

“Tea and a Butterbeer, I think.”

Professor McGonagall seated herself and gestured for Harry to do the same. “This is the Leaky Cauldron,” she said. “It is the most-used gateway to Diagon Alley. They have meals and rooms here, if you need to stay nearby for any reason. It is located on Charing Cross Road in London. Make special note of the location when we leave so that you can find it again.”

Tom set the drinks down, and Professor McGonagall sipped her tea. Harry was still shell-shocked from all these new experiences and individual attention from a teacher outside of school. He slowly opened and tasted the Butterbeer.

“This is brilliant!” he exclaimed, before abruptly dropping his eyes with his face burning.

“Yes, it is rather good. Now, I’d like to tell you a bit about Hogwarts. If your interest in attending is unchanged, we can go into the Alley to get your school supplies. Then I’ll show you where and how to access the Ministry of Magic and St Mungo’s, our primary hospital.”

OoOoOoOoO

Harry’s head was spinning as he lifted his trunk up the stairs to his room. He had met goblins, walked through glass, and made sparks come out of a stick. He owned a pile of gold in a vault, a cauldron, robes, and a wand. The professor had asked him if he wanted a pet, but Harry knew that Aunt Petunia wouldn’t allow it.

He also found out that his parents hadn’t died in an accident, but that they had been killed in the most recent magical war. They had been attacked by the really powerful evil guy, but had managed to set a trap that killed him as well. Harry supposed that he was lucky to have survived the house blowing apart with nothing more than a cut from the debris.

Arriving upstairs, Harry found Uncle Vernon installing a lock on Harry’s door. Harry froze with his trunk in his hands. Uncle Vernon spoke, appearing to address the doorknob. “Dudley doesn’t know about your unnaturalness. It’s going to stay that way. Understand?”

Uncle Vernon’s sharp look prompted Harry to quickly say, “Yes, sir.”

“You’ll keep your stuff in your room and lock the door at all times. Dudley will think that you will be attending St Brutus’ Comprehensive School. That is the story everyone will get. Read up on the school so that you don’t get caught in the lie. Here’s your key.” Uncle Vernon tossed one of the keys towards Harry, who managed to catch it.

“Dudley’s got his own lock. I’ll tell him the new rule. You stay out of his room; he’ll stay out of yours.” Uncle Vernon grabbed his tools and left without looking at his nephew.

Harry was dubious. There was no doubt in his mind that Dudley would try to break into his room now that it wasn’t allowed. Harry would just have to “hide” a diary or something for Dudley to find, and make sure that the magic stuff was hidden better.

Harry pushed his recent acquisitions into his room and locked the door. He immediately retrieved his textbooks. Professor McGonagall had warned him extensively against performing any magic, so he would have to wait to see what his wand could do. But now that he had magic books, he felt like a kid in a candy store. It was like the first day he had discovered science fiction, but better since this was real. He wanted to know everything that was possible now.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry scrambled to drag his heavy trunk up the train steps as the whistle blew. His aunt had hit traffic in London and they arrived almost too late to catch the train. Harry had raced through the barrier, which seemed similar to the one at St Mungo’s, following behind a family of red-heads. He had immediately moved to one of the far cars, where he’d guessed that fewer people would have congregated.

Harry felt lucky when the third compartment he looked into was empty. He stowed his trunk under the seat, but froze when he heard a loud, protesting “Croak!” Glancing under the bench, Harry saw that he had almost squashed a toad with his luggage. Harry liked toads, since they ate spiders, so he just moved his trunk over and settled down with his book as the train started moving.

He had initially focussed his reading on the primary course books, like Transfiguration and the Standard Book of Spells. They were fascinating and frustrating in equal measure. All the things that could be done with magic were so varied and interesting. There were potions that were just like medicine, but worked in seconds instead of hours. A Wizard could transfigure a branch into a sword or a stone into crystal. Harry’s favourite by far though were Charms. He would be able to unlock doors, produce light, make objects fly, reduce the weight of his trunk… everything was so fantastic! And he wasn’t able to try any of it over the summer.

Harry had finally put the course books aside before the temptation became too much for him. He tried glancing through the history book, but that was a little dry for him. The famous duels and other cultures introduced were very interesting, but the sheer number of names, dates, and laws finally drove Harry to put the book down.

Surprisingly, Waffling’s book of theory really piqued his interest. It provided a lot of the “why” to the “how to” of the other books. A good amount of it was too dense for Harry to get much out of, but certain parts really stood out. One chapter compared magic in a person to a semi-permeable water skin. If the skin was put under enough pressure, some of the water would leak out. The water would be likely to affect certain types of nearby objects, or change their properties, such as temperature and weight, but the little that would leak wouldn’t have much effect. On the other hand, if a tap were stuck into the water skin, only a little pressure would be needed and a rather larger amount of water would come out. The water was more powerful, and could affect objects farther away or more heavily than before.

A young witch or wizard was like the water skin. Accidental magic would sometimes manifest if they were under pressure, but it was largely inefficient. It was also likely to only affect certain objects or properties, like hair and clothes, or colour and size. The wizard or witch’s first wand was like the tap. It helped puncture the water skin to easily access the child’s magic. It allowed the magic to be consciously directed, and was a far more efficient use of energy. The analogy wasn’t perfect, but it was a good place for Harry to start understanding.

Harry started when the compartment door slid open. A pudgy boy wearing robes stood there, looking a bit forlorn. “Excuse me,” they boy said hesitantly, “have you seen a toad?”

Harry gestured underneath the seat across from him and said, “There was one under there as of an hour ago.”

With a joyful cry, the boy dove under the seat and came up a few moments later, clutching the amphibian. “Thanks for your help,” he said. “I’ve been looking for Trevor since just after I got on.”

A bushy-haired brunette came in through the open door, and smiled when she saw the first boy’s hand. “Oh good. You found him, Neville. I was getting worried that we’d passed by him.”

Neville turned back to Harry and said, “I’m going to find my friends. Sorry for interrupting.” He turned and led the girl out of the car.

A part of Harry had hoped that they would have stayed. He would have liked to have a few more people in the compartment in case someone less friendly showed up. He returned his attention to the book and started reading about incantations, though his mind was debating the risks and merits of trying to find another compartment with a few people in it.

He was still contemplating the topic ten minutes later, when the girl from before opened the door again. Exasperated, she said, “Some rather loud people took over my compartment in my absence. Would you mind if I join you?”

Harry shook his head and she pulled her trunk in and planted herself down opposite him. Her eyes fell on Harry’s book, and her face lit up. “Oh, you’re reading Waffling’s book? I really liked that one. It made everything so easy to understand.”

Harry felt like there was a good amount of it that he was still struggling with, but figured that wouldn’t be the case for all the students. He responded, “I really liked his theory about ghosts.”

“Oh, just wait till you get to the explanation of incantations. It’s so fascinating,” she said, flashing a contented smile that showed off her large front teeth.

“I have read it once already,” Harry replied with an edge to his tone. That was one of the parts that went over his head, but he neglected to mention it.

“Great!” she exclaimed, seemingly missing his slightly affronted attitude. “I had no idea when I got my wand that it was actually imbued with the essence of the Latin language. I guess that explains why there aren’t really any spells in our books from other, non-Latin-based cultures. The wand wouldn’t be able to cast the spells. Although, it really makes me wonder if they do magic differently in those types of countries. I guess we could find out in the Magical Cultures elective, but that’s not till third year…”

Harry stared at the girl. He still hadn’t even caught her name yet, and she was five minutes into a discourse on spells and languages. _Well,_ he thought as he settled back into the seat, _at least there won’t be any awkward silences._

OoOoOoOoO

“First years!” the large man called through the deepening dusk. “First years, over here!”

Harry followed Hermione through the crowd towards the fleet of beached boats. It seemed like the older students were going a different direction, towards some horse-drawn carriages. Harry swerved again to avoid running into a taller boy. Hermione glanced back and waited for Harry to catch up. As eager as she was to get to the boats, it seemed like she was reluctant to lose the protection of a companion as well.

The large man ceased his announcement when it seemed like most of the shortest students were gathered around him. He did a quick headcount, and then spoke in a gentler voice than before. “Hello, everyone. My name’s Hagrid. One o’ Hogwarts’ traditions is tha’ the firs’ years always arrive by boat. Everyone climb in, no more’n four to a boat.”

The young students all scrambled to get to a boat with their friends. Harry and Hermione had moved towards Neville, but he already had a full boat. They ended up just sitting with a small, bespectacled brunette, who had been the odd one out of a group of giggling girls.

Hagrid waved a very thick wand and a large wave came up the beach and carried the boats into the water. Another gesture sent the fleet of boats moving towards a bend in the lake. Harry could hear some boys speaking as his boat drifted closer. One in particular was talking loudly, “…and my brothers told me that there’s a giant squid in the lake. They said it sometimes grabs people, but I think they were joking.”

A dark-skinned boy leaned over the gunwale, trying to see into the depths. A wave caught his boat, and he started falling forward. Just before he took a drink of the Scottish loch, a spell lifted him back into his boat. Harry saw Hagrid putting his wand down again. The large man caught Harry’s eye, winked, and said, “There’s always one tha’ seems to wan’ ter go fer a swim.”

Harry snorted and quickly looked forward again, though he couldn’t hold back his grin. Hagrid’s eyes shifted mischievously as he hefted a bag to his shoulder. With an effortless motion of his arm, the heavy bag flew away from all the boats, spilling chunks of meat out as it flew. It plopped into the middle of the lake and A large tentacle immediately broke the lake surface, scooping the bag and spilled beef beneath the waves. Harry gasped along with the rest of his year-mates, and several girls shrieked in surprise.

Hagrid just laughed. “Don’ yeh worry ‘bout him. Tha’s jus’ the Giant Squid. He’ll eat anything yeh throw in the lake, but wouldn’ harm a person or creature.”

People were babbling excitedly at the spectacle, but conversation died off when the boats rounded a bend. Hogwarts sat, stark against the sky. Despite only the dregs of sunlight remaining, the castle was illuminated with an ethereal light. The walls looked rough, the stones were large, and the towers were oddly situated, but for all that, it was beautiful.

The children were silent as the boats passed through a curtain of ivy and drifted under the castle itself. Harry had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach as he trailed his hand along the nearby stone wall. Hogwarts felt familiar, but alien; powerful, but welcoming; and old. It had an ancient quality that exceeded anything Harry had ever felt before.

His thoughts were interrupted by their arrival on shore. The students flowed quickly from their boats towards the large oak door, eager to see what would come next.

OoOoOoOoO

“Hmm… queasy? No, there’s no house like that. How is your courage, child? Do you like adventure? Hmm… fun, yes, but you prefer circumventing danger. You must be fairly sneaky, so what do you want to do with your guile? Hmm… no ambition to speak of. Do you have many friends? Do you work hard and help others? Well… you’d like to, I suppose. I think that Hufflepuff would be good for you, but perhaps not the other way around. You seem to enjoy learning, especially about magic. You’re not afraid of a bit of research to figure your way around a problem. You’re no savant, but I think that you’d still do best in RAVENCLAW!”

Harry took off the old hat and moved quickly over to the table under the blue banner. He got some polite applause from his new housemates, but Harry was glad to see that most other students were bored by the Sorting and were not all looking at him. Several whispered conversations were on-going, and many students were eyeing their plates hungrily.

Harry had hoped to sit next to Hermione, but she was already bracketed by an Asian girl and the Indian girl who had been sorted three before Harry. He settled for a seat at the end of the table, near enough to engage in conversation with a few of the other first years.

Eventually the sorting finished, and Harry was introduced to Stephen Cornfoot and Michael Corner. When the food appeared, Stephen turned the conversation to pets. “I just miss my dog already. I’d usually sneak her food off my plate. I bet she’s going hungry now. Can’t believe we only get the option of three pets.”

“I’ve heard that the rule’s not really enforced,” said a nearby second year. “I guess it depends on your Head of House, though. I know that one of the older Gryffindors has a rat, and I’ve heard rumours saying that Lee Jordan has a giant tarantula or something though.”

“Yeah, and the Slytherins can have any sort of snake they want,” chimed in another boy. “One of their prefects threatened to put me in detention with his boa.”

“So, maybe I could bring my dog after Christmas?” Stephen said hopefully.

“I doubt it,” Michael responded. “A dog’s a bit high-maintenance. It needs to go for walks all the time. Bet it gets right cold up here in the winter too.”

Harry breathed a small sigh of relief. He didn’t fancy sharing a dorm with a dog, though it would have been better than a giant spider. The other boys continued chatting, while Harry mostly listened. It seemed like most of his housemates had also read the course books over the summer, but that was likely limited to his house. Other than the newly-minted Muggle-borns, who were enamoured with the Magical World, the non-Ravenclaw students were supposedly much less studious.

The desserts eventually disappeared and the Headmaster rose from his chair. Harry noticed the older students straighten up, and the hall quickly quieted down.

“Ah, a new year is here,” the aged wizard began. “To new students, welcome to Hogwarts. I most sincerely hope that you will enjoy your years here with us, and that you may pick up on the odd spell or two as you do. To returning students, welcome back. I hope that you are rested from your summer, and are as excited to see the next Quidditch match as I am.” He paused briefly to let the chuckles die away.

“Professor Trelawny has predicted that this year will give an early winter, so the Quidditch season will begin immediately. The first match will be in four weeks, so be sure to schedule try-outs soon. I suggest that the other outdoor sports teams adjust their schedules accordingly as well.

“Some of you should remember Professor Quirrel from Muggle Studies two years ago. He has returned to teach Defensive Magic for this year only. He will also offer extra tutoring to OWL and NEWT-level students who plan to join the Auror corps.

“New students, you will be familiarized with the rules of Hogwarts by your Heads of House over the next few weeks. The most important one is that there is no malicious magic allowed, unless done as part of your classwork. Also, the forest to the west of the castle is home to several dangerous species and some sentient beings. Do not enter it, as we would like to prevent any kind of incidents.

“Now, before we all retire, it is time for the ‘school song.’ First years, please remain silent and just observe for now. This is an important ritual for the school, and dates back to not long after its founding. You will learn more about this in your history course.”

Dumbledore turned and fired a spell at the tall, blank wall behind the teachers’ table. Fiery letters inscribed themselves upon the stone. Around Harry, some of the older students began humming a low note. Dumbledore turned back to the students, raised his wand like a conductor’s baton, and then flicked it in a clear signal to begin.

_“Sní do·gair for in éscae sceo rind,_  
_Fethid in so cathair in is ar dom._  
_Sní do·gair for in íriu fo,_  
_Bodaing ar scolaige amail íat fo·gleinn._  
_Sní do·gair for in loscud la,_  
_Guirid ar corps sceo ad·aig in adaig._  
_Sní do·gair for in lochs comfhocus,_  
_Do·eim dúinn díib cach cía gníid dúinn pudar._  
_Sní do·gair for in druídecht istig,_  
_Do·beir sothcad for so dom sceo cach istig.”_

Though largely tuneless, Harry could hear the rhythm of the students’ voices as they blended into one another. Goose flesh swept up his arms and his hair stood on end. He could feel the power in the air as the crescendo was reached. Then, as though it came as a surprise, the chant abruptly ended and the power disappeared.

Dumbledore lowered his wand and looked solemnly over the student body. “Thank you all. May you sleep well tonight with untroubled dreams.”

Harry walked off with his year-mates towards his new home for the next ten months, head buzzing with the day’s events. He was now feeling surprisingly eager to get to History of Magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voco Comitatus – summon escort  
> I liked the idea that before there was the Knight Bus, there was actually a company of knights that could be signalled by this spell. Obviously it wouldn’t be as fast, or would be limited to certain areas, but it makes sense given how far back the history of the Magical World goes. Time and innovation would improve protection and travel, until we are left with the Knight Bus.  
>   
> For the “school song” I used an English-Gaelic dictionary and an English-Irish translator to fill in the gaps. Here’s the intended meaning:  
>   
> We call upon the moon and stars,  
> Watch over this castle that is our home.  
> We call upon the earth beneath,  
> Support our students as they learn.  
> We call upon the fires beside,  
> Warm our bodies and drive back the night.  
> We call upon the waters around,  
> Protect us from all who would do us harm.  
> We call upon the magic here,  
> Bring good fortune upon this home and all within.


	5. Scholarly Pursuits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Does Hagrid cast spells for most of his adult life with an umbrella? Then I don’t own Harry Potter.  
>   
> Thanks go to Snowyiris129 for her excellent beta work.

_May you live in interesting times._  
– Chinese Curse

OoOoOoOoO

“Welcome to Transfiguration. In layman’s terms, Transfiguration is the study of changing things into other things. I, however, prefer to see it as ‘rewriting reality.’ I can do something simple, like changing this desk into a pig,” the class jumped a bit as the swine made a brief appearance, “or as complicated as reforming stone as I see fit.”

Professor McGonagall stirred the air over a patch of floor with her wand, and the flagstones grew out of the floor. They twisted and writhed like plants, guided into place by McGonagall. A sudden flurry of wand movement, a barked incantation, and the stones turning transparent like glass, but bent and swayed like reeds. Blood-red flowers suddenly bloomed and the roses ceased growing. The class burst into applause.

“Thank you,” the professor said, stowing her wand away. “Unfortunately, that was a NEWT-level demonstration. We will be starting much smaller. In first year, you will focus on the subset of Transfiguration defined by explicit spells. These spells are made specifically to turn exactly one thing precisely into one other thing. This will be your most important year in Transfiguration because it will set the groundwork for all future learning.

“There are four parts to utilizing Transfiguration – the incantation, the wand movement, the mental focus, and the magic. The mental aspect is frequently called ‘visualization,’ but it is really a comprehensive understanding the initial target and the final result, and bridging the gaps between the two. The explicit spells you will use this year will help because the spell ‘knows’ the target and the result for you. Your ‘visualization’ will mostly be used to provide detail for the result. This year, you will focus on your magic. You must learn how to access your magic, how to maintain it steadily, how to extend it from your wand into the target, and how your magic feels when it warps the object. Only after getting a feel for that can you move on to less restricted Transfigurations.”

McGonagall fixed the class with a stern glare, and the few whisperers were silenced. “There is one rule that you will absolutely abide by if you wish to continue studying Transfiguration. There are different and more complicated rules in future years when the material is more advanced. For now, though, all you have to do is this – never, _ever_ , attempt a Transfiguration spell that is not in your first year textbook. Those spells are relatively simple and safe. They all have specific targets and results, and will not affect anything living. Stick to this rule for this year and you’ll be fine.”

Harry enjoyed the remainder of class, despite the stern warning. Professor McGonagall explained more about the differences between objects usually being in the categories of shape and material, and that the smaller the difference between target and result, the easier the Transfiguration. Since shape was easier to change than material, the students’ first exercise was to transfigure flat parchment to a parchment airplane. One of the boys in class mentioned that he had seen his father use this spell at the Ministry.

Only a few of Harry’s fellow students were able to maintain the ever-changing connection of magic to the target long enough for wings to form. Harry only managed one wing, but still had fun for the last few minutes of class throwing his plane with the other kids’ misshapen creations.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry wandered into the library, looking around for a familiar face. He really didn’t like being alone, instinctively feeling vulnerable when he did so. Unfortunately, Kevin and Michael were at the Football Club try-outs, and Harry always avoided any organized sports after the last time he played football. He saw a mane of bushy hair at one of the back tables, surrounded by a small cluster of open books. Harry walked over and sat down, setting his bag on the ground next to him.

“Hermione?” he ventured cautiously. The girl jumped a bit, not having noticed Harry sit. “What’s with all the books?”

Hermione looked at him a bit sheepishly. “Well, I was working on the Transfiguration essay and wanted some supplementary sources. Then I found a reference to Gamp’s Laws, which lead me to look up Alchemy. That referenced several practitioners, including the Headmaster, you know, but I was intrigued by King Midas. So now I’m reading ‘The Unlucky Alchemist,’ which is kind of like his biography and a very advanced theory book rolled into one.”

Harry was a bit stunned by the torrent of information, but managed to ask, “How’s the essay coming then?”

Hermione looked down and sheepishly said, “I’ve got a few paragraphs done…”

“Do you mind if I work here too?” Harry asked.

Hermione peered closely at him, trying to guess his motives. It wouldn’t be the first time someone copied off of her, but he had been nice enough so far. There wasn’t really anything she could do about it anyway if he did want to sit. “That’s fine with me,” she said.

Harry nodded and wordlessly extracted his textbook and a fresh roll of parchment from his bag. Hermione returned to her research, but cast an occasional eye over the quiet boy. At least he wasn’t messing up her piles.

OoOoOoOoO

"Control!” Professor Quirrel shouted at the class. “This is one aspect of spell casting that is not emphasized in your other wanded subjects for many years. You sit scant inches from the target of your Charm. Who needs accuracy? You are having trouble making the proper mental associations between two objects. Just overpower the Transfiguration! However, control is a necessity for those who wish to practice Defence. You will not cast so much as a Jelly-Legs Jinx in this class before you can be sure that you will hit your opponent's legs. You will not cast a Disarming Charm before I know that your opponent won't be blasted into a wall with it. Defence cannot be practiced without an attacker. But not one spell shall be cast at a single classmate before I can be sure that you won't be a danger to those learning around you."

Harry had really been looking forwards to Defence Magic, as had most of the first years. The various jinxes, hexes, and curses he’d read about had such cool potential, but it seemed like the teacher was mad about safety. Hopefully, Harry could soon prove himself trustworthy enough to gain permission to begin practising in earnest.

Quirrel gave the students a few moments to allow his speech to sink in before continuing. "Casting spells and duelling are only part of the discipline of Defence. What good would it do to know what spells to use against a hag if you can't distinguish one from an old witch? How could you avoid a vampire if you must be out at night? Recognition of dangerous individuals and practitioners of the Dark Arts is obviously necessary to be proficient in one’s defence. You will be taught how to deal with common, hazardous, non-sentient creatures in your second year. You will be introduced to the abilities, weaknesses, and what some laughingly call the 'culture' of sentient dark creatures in your third year.

“For now though, you will learn identification and avoidance techniques for all creatures, semi-humans, and dark wizards and witches native to Britain and nearby countries. You will also learn several low-power jinxes and hexes that can help you when fleeing from a hostile. We will split our time, theory in the first half of class, practice in the second half. If you show up late, you will not be permitted to participate in the practical. We may take a few trips to various locations in the castle or forest to see different creatures. Act responsibly or you won’t go on any more."

OoOoOoOoO

Harry and Hermione had just exited the library when a red-headed boy ran around the corner and slammed into Harry, knocking both of them to the floor. Harry groaned in pain. The red-head was a bit bigger than he was.

“Ah. Sorry ‘bout that, mate,” the boy said while clambering to his feet. Hurried footsteps became audible from around the corner and the boy’s eyes widened. He dodged behind Hermione and crouched down, obviously trying to hide.

Hermione turned to look at him. “And just what do you think you are doing? Running through the ha–“

“Shh! Please, just hide me,” the boy entreated of her. “They’re coming!”

A pair of identical redheads rounded the corner and took in the scene at a glance. They grinned as they spotted their brother eying them over the girl’s shoulder. “Oi Ronnikins! It’s not nice to run from someone who wants to speak with you. Don’t you want to say hello?”

“I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to see it, and if you put it in my bed, I swear to Merlin I’ll write to Mum,” Ron called out in response.

Harry was utterly bemused, but Hermione looked curiously at the box in one of the twins’ arms. “Who exactly wants to speak to him?” she asked.

“Ah, my dear firstie, it’s not a who but a what–”

“Not to say that a what can’t be a who, but–”

“In this case, ‘tis the ‘what’ that has Ron trying to hide behind her.”

“For the ‘what’ is a fun pal, Lee’s giant spider!”

“The poor bloke was thinking that he’d gone insane–”

“When the spider in the box started saying Ron’s name.”

“See, Lee had thought he’d bought a large tarantula–”

“But it ended up being some kind of Acromantula!”

“But spiders can’t talk,” Hermione protested, “no matter what species they are.”

“Yes they can, have a listen,” the boy with the box replied.

Hermione moved closer cautiously. Harry was torn between curiosity and wanting to run from the spider with Ron, so he stayed still. Ron, whimpering, made his escape into the library. The two remaining first years could make out a soft clicking sound, but little else. One of the twins made a face and gently tapped the box. “Come on, say it again. Who do you want to eat?”

 _Click… click… tap, tap..._ “ro–… ru–… ru–… nn” _click…_

The boy looked up sheepishly at Hermione’s disbelieving face. “He was being clearer before.”

“Can we see him?” Hermione asked.

“Well, he’s not exactly friendly, per se…” one boy said.

“More like he’s tried to bite everyone unless he was just fed,” the other amended.

“I still don’t believe you about the speaking. Spiders don’t even have normal mouths. How could he talk?” Hermione challenged.

“Ask Kettleburn then. He’s the Magical Creatures professor. He’ll back us up.” The redhead paused, rethinking his words. “Just – don’t tell him we have it. Make your question hypothetical. C’mon, we’ll point him out.”

The two boys flanked Hermione as they walked into the Great Hall. Harry followed them, careful to maintain a healthy distance between him and that box.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry stood behind Hermione, wondering how he’d gotten dragged into _another_ meeting about the dumb spider. Professor Kettleburn had deferred to a man named “Rubeus,” who apparently had more experience with the arachnids. The dark look Kettleburn wore while saying that made Harry a bit apprehensive about the meeting. They had been directed towards a hut on the grounds before Kettleburn hobbled back inside the castle.

Hermione gave Harry a nervous glance before she raised her hand and knocked. A loud barking erupted from right inside the door, causing Hermione and Harry to jump backwards in surprise.

“Fang, quiet down! Fang! Get back!”

Harry paled still further. He didn’t have any good experiences with dogs, especially not those with vicious names. And this “Fang” sounded much bigger than his aunt’s bulldog, Ripper.

There was a grunt and a surprised whine, and then the door opened. Harry’s eyes, which had been scanning at knee-height for the dog, were drawn up. And up and up and up. A giant man stood in the doorway, holding a massive black boarhound under his arm like it was a puppy. A bushy beard covered the man’s mouth, and one of his hands, which was bigger than Harry’s head, rested on the doorjamb.

“Afternoon!” the man said jovially. “Err… can I help yeh with summat?”

“Good afternoon,” Hermione managed to squeak out. “Professor Kettleburn referred us to you as an expert in certain magical creatures?”

“Oh really?” the man said, looking pleased. “He’s a good man; knows his critters. I’m jus’ glad to help with some o’ the bigger ones. C’mon inside. I’ll get yeh some tea.”

The two children followed him inside the hut. Once the door was closed, he dropped the large dog to the floor. The dog made a beeline for Harry, who squeaked in surprise and backed away. He raised his arms to protect his face, but the boarhound buried its nose in Harry’s crotch and snuffled loudly.

“Don’ worry abou’ Fang. He’s a real softie,” his owner reassured. Harry would have disputed the descriptor based on the hardened muscle he felt on the dog while trying to push him away.

“Oh!” Hermione’s face brightened up. “You took us in the boats over the lake. Mr Hagrid, right?” Harry was surprised. The man hadn’t looked quite so big that night, but he supposed that the darkness could have hidden a lot.

“Rubeus Hagrid, at yeh’r service, but ev’ryone jus’ calls me Hagrid,” the man said, placing mugs of tea on the table. “Now what creatures were yeh curious about?”

“Acromantulas,” Hermione supplied. “Someone h... er… told us that they could talk. But spiders don’t even have normal mouths.”

“Neither do parrots, but that don’ stop ‘em,” Hagrid responded, chuckling. “Yeah, they can talk. But it’d take a lot o’ interaction with a human fer them ter learn how. It would usually take a few years before it could do much more than jus’ repeat words back at yeh. But they’re dead smart.” Hagrid seemed to shake himself a bit, and he turned to look back at the students. “Righ’, sorry. I didn’ get your names.”

Hermione blushed slightly at her poor manners and stammered, “H-Hermione Granger, sir.” She shook the large hand that was extended to her.

“None o’ that ‘sir’ stuff now,” Hagrid said. “And you, young man?” he asked, offering his hand to Harry.

Harry wondered at the familiarity he felt with this man as he shook the hand. It seemed stronger than the brief meeting last week would account for. “Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Hagrid.”

Hagrid’s brows furrowed, and then recognition dawned in his eyes. “Oh, Harry Potter. I las’ saw yeh when you were jus’ a baby. I took care o’ yeh for a night here at the castle when… well, when yer parents died.”

“You knew my parents? You knew me as a baby?” Harry asked, sounding rather surprised.

“Course I did,” Hagrid replied. “I fought alongside ‘em in the war. I only met yeh the once, though. Lemme tell yeh though, you were a handful. I was tryin’ ter feed yeh eggs, but yeh jus’ kept throwin’ ‘em back at me. On’y thing you’d eat was porridge, an’ you didn’ even like tha’ much…”

Hermione sat back, swallowing her questions about arachnid physiology as she watched her friend. A small smile played across Harry’s face while he listened to Hagrid talk about him and his parents. The boy seemed more relaxed than he ever was in class. It was good to see him smile at someone other than her. Maybe, despite the big scary dog, they could come and visit again.

OoOoOoOoO

“The wand,” Professor Quirrel said while holding up his own, “is the tool of choice for most wizards. Almost every recent violent conflict between wizards revolves around the use of wands. The winner of a duel is not usually determined by the ‘better’ of the wands, but there is a requirement that the wand be functional. Take care of your wands. Maintain them regularly, and ensure that you do not store or use them in such a manner that they might become damaged.

“Do not keep them in trouser pockets.” Several students looked around guiltily. “Do not keep them loose in school packs or handbags.” Several more students surreptitiously extracted their wands. “Do not use them to tie up your hair.” Su Li frowned when her dorm mates grinned at her, and she pulled out the wand holding her bun together. “Sleeve pockets, wrist holsters, belt sheaths, and even leg holsters are available to you. You are not yet at the point where you really need to be wearing your wand on you at all times, so you can even keep them in a hard case in a bag.

“Do not jab or whack something with your wand. No spell requires that. Do not throw your wand. Do not use your wand to poke something unknown or to stir potions. Anyone doing so deserves to have it blow up in their face.

“If you are going into a dangerous or unknown situation, have your wand readily accessible or in your hand. At various times this year, we will be working on your reactions to surprise. If any of you are dropping your wands in response to _anything_ by the end of this year, you will fail this course. If you drop your wand in a conflict, you are dead.

“On the other hand, at your skill level, one of the best ways to non-lethally disable an opponent is to take away their wand. Trip Jinxes, Body Binds, and the Disarming Charm, all of which you will learn this year, have the potential of allowing you to remove your opponent’s wand from their hand. This is a perfectly valid and reasonable tactic. That said, there is one very important rule you must follow. If you are not in a fight for your life, then you. Will. Not. Snap. A. Wand. _Ever!_ ” Quirrel paused, glaring around at the class. “It would make sense to snap the wand though, right? This would remove your opponent’s ability to attack you magically for an extended period of time, right? It seems like it is the safest option, and they can always buy another, right?

“Intentionally snapping a wizard or witch’s wand carries a mandatory prison sentence, regardless of age. Snapping it accidentally carries a very steep fine if the victim presses charges. This is because, depending on the age of the victim and their bond with their wand, snapping it falls on the scale of malicious acts somewhere between setting their home on fire and killing their best friend while simultaneously breaking both of their arms. _It. Is. Not. Done!_

“There have been some instances of older witches and wizards who have used a single wand their entire life being unable to bond to another wand when their original was snapped. They were effectively made into Squibs through carelessness or maliciousness, and the perpetrators were punished heavily. You will learn to respect wands, be it your own or another’s, or you will not survive in this world.”

OoOoOoOoO

Harry looked up from his homework when he heard his dorm mate, Kevin, throw his quill down and grunt in disgust. “This is ridiculous! Why is the homework entirely busywork and rote memorization? I want to know _why_ we use porcupine quills when they have a propensity for exploding. I don’t want to just write out all the situations in which they do so. This is just boring, copying straight from the book.”

Harry leaned over and checked the notice board next to their table in the common room. “Prefect Hilliard is today’s tutor for Potions. You could ask him.”

Kevin nodded and got up. Harry took the opportunity to stretch and crack his back. Professor Snape’s homework was taking a while to get done, and that was not even counting the extra assignment for the people who failed his verbal pop quiz. He glanced enviously at Hermione, who was reading by the fire. She was the only one who got all of the questions right, although Padma hadn’t done too poorly either.

Kevin walked back to the table while conversing with Prefect Hilliard. “…and it feels like he wants us to just memorize all the recipes. Why don’t we learn what the ingredients do instead of all the different ways to mix them?”

“I actually asked the same question to Professor Snape when I was a first year,” Hilliard responded. “It’s because you aren’t learning to be a Potions Master yet. The vast majority of all wizards and witches who make potions follow standard recipes. Almost all of Potions classes up until your OWLs will be focused on teaching you to be a competent brewer. The potions get more and more complex as you go, and you’ll learn spells and techniques for dealing with long-term brews in later years. Once you hit NEWT-level, if you continue with Potions, you’ll learn to adjust existing recipes to the situation, especially with regard to healing potions, antidotes, and counter-curse draughts. This is especially helpful if you want to be an Auror, or a Healer like I do. Or, you could think of it as kind of a pre-Mastery if you want to go that route. To get a mastery, you’ll have to invent your own potions.”

“But why all the memorization?” Stephen jumped in. “Potions brewing is a lot like cooking. Can’t we just look at the cookbook?”

“It may seem that way now, but that will change soon. If nothing else, a good number of potions require continuous and careful stirring, or frequently added ingredients. You can’t count on always being able to check the book. Memorizing the steps is a good practice to get into. Also, you should know when the dangerous steps are and what might go wrong.” Hilliard paused, seeing the first years’ unhappy faces.

“Bugger,” Harry said. “I thought we’d get to start creating our own potions soon.”

The prefect laughed. “Not a chance of that. If you can impress Snape with your brewing, he might let you use the lab unsupervised after your fourth year. He did for me and a few others. It helps when getting ready for exams.”

“But why is Potions even a required course?” Kevin continued insisting. “Can’t we just buy the potions we need at the Apothecary or some kind of brewery?”

“Not exactly,” Hilliard said. “St Mungo’s and the Apothecary will carry some of the more common and generally-applicable potions. However, almost all of the more useful potions require some degree of personalization when brewed. Usually it’s just adjusting the amount of one ingredient or another based on the intended drinker’s age, weight, or severity of condition. You can pay professional brewers to make these potions for you, but it can get expensive very quickly. It’s much cheaper to just buy the ingredients and make it yourself. There are also some potions that require that the drinker to make the potion themselves, infusing their magic or parts of their body as they go. Some even require that the drinker gathers the ingredients themselves from the wild, as a bond between the hunter or gatherer and certain animal parts or plants can form and have an important effect on the potion. Some potions are so mutable that the brewer has to kind of _feel_ their way through the recipe, based on how the potion reacts to their own intent and magic. It can get really complex for the more interesting potions.”

“Parts of the body? Eww...” Stephen said, with the typical ability of young boys to only focus on one part of a conversation. “Who wants to drink something with their skin in it?”

“Could be worse. Better than adding a toe or something,” Harry contributed.

Prefect Hilliard sighed as the discussion of high-level and nigh-mysterious potions devolved into a gross-out contest. He really sympathized with Professor Snape’s distaste for teaching the lower years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to picture Hermione in the library like me on TV Tropes – grabbing books on any new topic encountered until the table is buried.  
>   
> I did always find it odd and awkward that Hagrid cast with an umbrella until he finally got a new wand in ‘93. My theory is that he was blamed for the Chamber of Secrets within the school, but there was insufficient evidence for the DMLE to convict him. He was expelled, officially for possession of Aragog (since he was at a dangerous size), and unofficially for Myrtle’s death, but the only people to really know about it would be the staff and a couple ministry personnel. When Dumbledore takes over as headmaster and most of the staff has been replaced, Hagrid figures it is safe enough to start using a bit of magic to help him in his job. He carves himself a hollow “wand” to hold the pieces of his original wand together. Now any students seeing him do magic assume that he’s allowed to, rather than seeing him cast with his umbrella and wondering what the hell is going on.


	6. Feast Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Were House Elves able to apparate while carrying humans despite Anti-Apparition Wards? Then I don’t own Harry Potter.  
>   
> Thanks to my wonderful beta and fiancée for drastically improving my syntax in this chapter.

_May you come to the attention of powerful people._  
– Chinese Curse

OoOoOoOoO

It had taken nearly two months, but they were finally practicing the casting of spells in Defence class. Last week, they focused on the Leg-Locker Curse, and this week, they were using the Trip Jinx. As before, they first cast at targets on the wall before they got to practice on each other.

Harry was partnered with Michael, and aimed carefully with his wand. As he finished the simple wand motions, his arm twitched hard to the right. Instead of hitting Michael in the middle of the cushioned training area, his spell struck Sally-Anne Perks in the back as she waked over to get a hair-tie from her bag. She fell heavily and struck her head on one of the desks.

Harry froze, horrified at what had happened. Sally-Anne moaned on the ground, holding her head. Professor Quirrel was suddenly at her side, his wand blurring over her hands and a look of concentration on his face. He then straightened, looking relieved.

“Seems like just a minor concussion, Miss Perks,” he said. “Mr Corner, escort Miss Perks to the Hospital Wing.”

Michael hurried over and helped Sally-Anne collect her bag and walk to the door. Harry had shrunk back against a nearby wall, wishing he could make himself invisible. He heard whispering coming from Lavender and Parvati, Sally-Anne’s friends. He could only imagine what they were saying about him.

“Mr Potter,” Professor Quirrel said, his voice low, “can you recall the topic of discussion in our very first class?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied immediately.

“And what was that topic, Mr Potter?”

“Control and safety, sir.”

“Did I clearly explain to you all the dangers of improperly cast defensive and offensive magic?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry’s gaze was directed towards Professor Quirrel’s feet, and sinking lower.

“Did you exhibit proper care when casting today, Mr Potter?”

“No, sir.”

“You will remain after class for a detention,” Quirrel said in a stern voice. “Perhaps missing the Halloween Feast tonight will wake you up to the seriousness of the magic we practice.”

Harry could only respond with another, “Yes, sir,” while looking miserable. He hadn’t meant to jinx Sally-Anne; it had just been an accident. And now she and her friends would hate him, Professor Quirrel wouldn’t trust him to cast magic, and he’d already gotten a detention this year.

He watched from the side of the room as everyone else continued practicing the spell. He had been looking forward to the feast, which promised to be quite special just based on the decorations he had seen at lunch.

Hermione was the last student to file out of the classroom. She turned and briefly gave Harry a pitying look before closing the door. Harry turned to face Professor Quirrel, who was restoring the desks to their original positions.

“Mr Potter,” Quirrel began, “take out your book and parchment. Beginning at chapter one, you will copy over every passage pertaining to the dangers of spell-casting. Also note the correct wand motion and incantation, in both Latin and phonetic spellings, of every spell.”

Harry lowered his eyes to prevent him from gaping in dismay at the professor. The book was huge! He had only read about half of it thus far, and that had taken him a while over the summer. Maybe the professor would dismiss him after a certain amount of time?

“I will return to check on your progress. I expect you to have four chapters complete before I get back.” Quirrel finished packing his materials into the desk and swept out of the room.

Harry felt annoyed that the professor got to go eat while he had to stay here, but the shame of hurting Sally-Anne still burned in his stomach. He opened his book and began skimming the pages quickly. Maybe, if he got all four chapters done, the professor would let him go?

OoOoOoOoO

Sally-Anne Perks walked towards the Great Hall in a huff. She had been having enough trouble with the Levitation Charm, and then her idiot partner went and set their feather on fire, burning her notes as well. Then Potter just _had_ to hit her with the jinx in Defence, almost making her crack her head open. Madam Pomfrey had given her a potion for the concussion, but made her stay in the Hospital Wing resting and doing annoying focus tests to make sure that it healed up right.

Sally-Anne breathed deeply and tried to relax as she exhaled. At least she wasn’t too late for the feast, though she was probably the last to arrive. She breathed deeply again as she walked towards the entrance to the large room, this time catching a whiff of delicious-smelling squash casserole.

The chatter of voices assaulted her ears upon stepping into the hall, but another loud noise came from behind her, as well. Sally-Anne glanced back over her shoulder and froze. Her eyes widened in fear. She tried to run, but couldn’t move her legs. A scream rose in her throat, but remained bottled up, only allowing a low moan past her lips. Her body, off-balance, toppled in the direction she had been moving. Her now-sightless eyes stared up at the last streaks of red visible through the Great Hall ceiling.

OoOoOoOoO

Albus Dumbledore looked up in concern when the first year girl tripped while entering the hall. One of the Gryffindor prefects was already up and moving to help though. The Headmaster raised another bite of the lemon-garlic chicken to his mouth as he watched the scene. He always loved when the sourness of lemons was used to make something delicious.

It was strange that the young woman hadn’t gotten up yet. She had fallen oddly; maybe she had hit her head? No matter, the prefect is there to help now. But the prefect isn’t looking at the girl. She’s looking at the doors… and falling as well. There was no light, no magic. What’s there?

Dumbledore was on his feet with his wand out before Prefect Urquart hit the ground. Instincts honed by two wars screamed at him that something was wrong… that this was more than some new colourless tripping jinx or prank on the flagstones. With a distinct lack of his usual finesse, he banished the nearest door and summoned the furthest in one continuous motion. The wave of force knocked all the floating candles and pumpkins flying, no doubt distressing the students, but it succeeded in slamming the doors shut. Dumbledore finished his spell-casting with a strong _Colloportus_ to hold the lock them.

Not a second later, a resounding crash was heard as some _thing_ slammed into the doors from the other side. The upper half of the doors splintered and bent into the hall, briefly revealing a reptilian nose and a glimpse of white bone, before it withdrew for another strike.

The screams from students, which had begun with those introduced face-first to a pumpkin, doubled in sources and volume. Flitwick had already jumped on to the table and was floating the pair of girls away from where they had lain, scant feet from the abused doors. Dumbledore and McGonagall moved in tandem, transfiguring the wood to stone and causing the castle’s walls and floor to flow over the doors, sealing them.

A second crash sounded before the walls could completely cover the doors. Chunks of masonry were thrown into the hall, but the stone continued to flow, and the third strike was muffled somewhat by the thick layer.

As Dumbledore watched, Sir Nicholas had drawn his sword and charged from the Gryffindor table through the covered door. He would take an attack on his house’ students quite personally, though there were few things in this world that he could still harm. However, Dumbledore needed information more than an intangible berserker at this moment.

“Cuthbert,” the old wizard called down the table, not letting up on his transfiguration, “find out what’s over there and report back immediately.”

The History professor gave a nod and floated quickly towards the wall. Several unoccupied teachers were coaxing some of the younger students out from under the tables and moving them to the far side of the hall. Madam Pomfrey was examining the two girls, her face grim. Each blow to the wall caused huge cracks to run through the stone, dislodging large chunks, but the stone would reform and repair in seconds under the wands of two masters of Transfiguration.

Neither ghost reappeared.

Albus cursed that Sybill had chosen today of all days to become ill. He needed to know what was on the other side of that door, and scrying was one of the most reliable methods. There are other ways though…

“Poppy!” Dumbledore called out, lowering his wand. “I need to know what’s behind that door. Can you push a scan through stone?”

Madam Pomfrey, stood from her kneeling position next to the girls and turned to the doors with scarcely a nod. She bravely ran right up to the wall that was still trembling from the last strike of the thing slamming into the other side.

“Minerva, stop now!” the nurse called back to the head table.

McGonagall cut off her transfiguration and the stone that had been continuously repairing itself ceased its movement. Immediately, Pomfrey cast her medical imaging spell, overpowering it horrifically. While it was normally useful for allowing her to see through flesh and bone, the extra power was sufficient to make the thick stone transparent to her eyes, despite it still being saturated with magical residue.

There was just darkness for a moment, and then Pomfrey jumped back as a reptilian snout slammed into the now-invisible wall feet in front of her. Her eyes saw through the front-most scales, settling on a horrific array of teeth. Then the snout pulled back.

Ignoring the chunks of stone that had rained around her, Pomfrey yelled, “Albus, it’s a snake! Giant snake!” She pushed harder on the scan, trying to see more of the body. She caught a glimpse of the head again, and saw a flash of yellow as it turned to the side. Her body stiffened, an inexplicable rush of deathly fear coursing through her. Attuned to her body and magic as she was, the nurse could feel the dark magic entering her eyes and moving rapidly through her body. The medical scan failed as her magic froze in her veins, and Pomfrey saw only darkness.

Dumbledore felt a rush of fear and dismay when he saw Poppy fall. She had been with the school for decades, and he was very fond of her. He ruthlessly crushed his emotions with well-practiced efficacy as Flitwick levitated Pomfrey to join the other fallen girls.

“Filius,” Dumbledore spoke as the stones crumbled from the door again, “lead the children to Hogsmeade and contact the Aurors. Take Pomena, Aurora, and Charity, and have the prefects do a headcount. Notify me if any children are missing.”

Flitwick nodded and cast a _Sonorus_ to start marshalling the students. Sprout waved her wand as well, causing the downed witches to float behind her.

Dumbledore turned back to his deputy. “Minerva, hold the door. Bathsheda, set up something to strengthen the wall if you can. Silvanus, any thoughts on what this might be? I’ve known many snakes, but none that could kill without touching their victim.”

Kettleburn seemed to be in shock from all the events, and answered in a detached tone of voice. “A Nundu’s breath could do it, but that’s no snake. The Coatl never gets larger than a boa, and its wings are quite obvious. Maybe Poppy mistook a dragon’s snout for a snake’s? The Japanese Gojira is rather lizard-like, and their breath is a combination of heat and raw magical energy, not fire. But it dissipates quickly, so Poppy wouldn’t have been hurt...”

Dumbledore cursed mentally as his Magical Creatures professor continued to ramble. Fawkes could have transported him to the hall behind the creature in a flash, or even scouted ahead for him. Phoenixes are immune to most fire, diseases, and magic, and would only be reborn even if killed. If only he hadn’t just had a burning day…

The Knut dropped, as a sense of déjà vu struck. Ten years later, he was again facing a difficult opponent, his mobility impaired, and with something he was protecting in a different location. On cue, Dumbledore felt a weak magical connection break. The first door protecting the Philosopher’s Stone had just been breached. No one should know it was at the school, much less where in the school it was, and yet someone was attempting to steal it.

Dumbledore turned his gaze on the doors to the Entrance Hall with thoughts of flying around the castle to enter from a third floor window. Those thoughts died when Flitwick banished the line of students away from the door and dove back through himself. A club shattered one of the hinges as it slammed the door fully open. A dozen mountain trolls were crowding around the entrance, flailing their clubs at anyone who got near them.

Recovering from his emergency evasive manoeuvre, Flitwick conjured massive amounts of rope, attempting to restrain the trolls, switching to chain when they broke the rope with ease. Several older students were firing Stunning, Blasting, and Piercing Curses at the trolls, but all direct magic seemed to bounce off with little effect.

“Severus,” Dumbledore called to the professor, who was examining Pomfrey and the girls’ bodies, “deal with the trolls. Protect the students. I must go.”

The Potions Master moved swiftly towards the Entrance Hall. Flitwick had managed to bind half the trolls, and was using their bodies to barricade the door from the other half. Snape stepped forward, tracing his wand through a short, but intricate, series of motions.

“ _Ignis de Velchanos, Uro!_ ”

The flames streamed out of Snape’s wand and incinerated the doors, trolls, and chains alike. Sweat broke out on Snape’s brow as he fought to maintain command over the conflagration. The flames slowed and halted their progression down the corridor, but seemed to turn back on their caster. Various beasts coalesced briefly from the flames, roaring their defiance at Snape and the spectators. At long last, they dwindled and were smothered as they succumbed to Snape’s control.

The professor took several breaths to steady himself after the large expenditure of magic. He glanced back, seeing McGonagall and Babbling working to repair the other still-besieged entrance. The Headmaster, however, had disappeared down a tunnel of vanished stone behind the head table. Snape turned back and nodded to Flitwick. The Charms professor assembled the students and staff while Snape preceded them out the hall. He would act as scout and vanguard for their trip to Hogsmeade.

OoOoOoOoO

_Should a person break a bone or injure their back or neck, it is important to keep that person from moving, lest they further damage the injured area. This is especially important in the case of neck and other spinal injuries, as any movement risks paralysation. Despite this, the victim of such an injury frequently thrashes about due to the pain. It is tempting to use the Full Body-Bind Curse (Petrificus Totalus) to arrest their motion. However, this spell drags the arms, legs, and neck straight, no matter the original position, giving it the potential to be even more damaging to the victim. Also, because the curse connects and pulls from the user’s magic constantly, the user cannot travel very far to acquire medical assistance without the curse abating. The basic Freezing Charm (Immobilus) is preferable to the Body-Bind, as it locks the victim in their current position, though it is also connected to the caster. The more advanced Frozen Sleep Charm (Inflecto Dormio) is the best spell to use, as it puts the victim to sleep, dulling the pain and preventing spell resistance, locks joint movement in position, and is a self-contained spell, not requiring a continuous connection to the user._

Harry finished copying the passage and leaned back in his chair. The quills he bought in Diagon Alley were surprisingly comfortable and easy to use, but his hand was still cramping after so much writing. He smiled though as he turned the pages, skimming for more warnings. He had just finished the sixth chapter, and it hadn’t even been an hour. Harry hoped that Professor Quirrel would come back soon and release him. The feast should be going on for a little while longer still.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door opened. Harry turned towards the professor, ready to show his work. He frowned in confusion as he saw Quirrel’s wand in his face.

“ _Avada Kedavra._ ”

There was a green light, the sound of a sudden wind, and then Harry knew nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis de Velchanos, Uro – Fire of Velchanos, Burn! Fiendfyre, obviously. Velchanos was one of the names for Vulcan in Roman mythology.  
>   
> Inflecto Dormio – Unbending Sleep  
>   
> You guys should check out White Squirrel’s _Petrification Proliferation_ (FFN story ID: 11265467) for a look at consequences of the Basilisk that I hadn’t even considered while writing this.


	7. Breaking and Entering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Was limbo, the liminality of mortality, actually represented by King’s Cross Station? Then I don’t own Harry Potter.  
>   
> My thanks go to my talented wife for her help with this chapter. She improved nearly every paragraph in this chapter.

_May you find what you are looking for._  
– Chinese Curse

OoOoOoOoO

The first layer of defence was a locking charm. The charm was so low-powered that a basic _Alohomora_ could break it. Even to the most experienced wizard’s magical sense, it deceptively appeared to be a mundane lock. However, maintaining the charm required a continuous pull on the caster’s magic, leaving a constant feeling in their mind to those attuned to it. And when the lock was opened, and the charm broken, the caster could notice it.

OoOoOoOoO

Voldemort cursed mentally as he felt the slight energy backlash of the magical lock breaking. He’d been in too much of a hurry and had failed to thoroughly check that the door had only been secured by a Muggle bolt. _Assuming Dumbledore cast this, he’s still alive, and he probably now knows_.

The wizard hurried through the door before stopping short. Three giant heads, each dripping drool, loomed over him. A low rumbling growl built in the chest of the dog as it coiled its muscles, getting ready to lunge.

“ _Avada Kedavra._ ”

Voldemort smirked as the green spell struck the dog in one of its eyes, and its head drooped to the ground. The smirk disappeared when the other two heads pounced.

OoOoOoOoO

_Hogwarts,_ Dumbledore reflected as he climbed another staircase, _is entirely too large_. Not for the first time, he lamented that Hogwarts was warded against both Portkeys and Apparition, and that there was no way to “key in” certain persons to allow them those modes of transportation.

He also regretted putting the Stone so near to his office. Originally he thought that if someone had deduced the location of the Stone, their attempt to steal it would occur when he was asleep or out of the castle. If he was out of the castle, he could simply floo to his office. If he was asleep, however, there was a chance that the small backlash from the first lock opening would not wake him, and it would take the second door lock breaking to notify him. In that instance, it would have been better that he be nearby to arrive as soon as possible.

The timing of this attack was simply brilliant. The Hallowe'en Feast, which no student, staff, ghost, or elf would miss, herded the unsuspecting castle populace into a dangerous area well-away from the Stone. It was common knowledge that he had a phoenix though, so most would consider transportation time for himself to be negligible. For the prospective thief to know to attack tonight, so soon after Fawkes’ burning day, suggested a level of knowledge that would require at least an informant in the staff.

As he hurried up the next staircase, Dumbledore dearly hoped that Hagrid had not been tricked out of sensitive information again.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry would have thought that it was dark, even pitch black, except that even with no light he would still see little stars, lines, and afterimages that were the eyes’ half-imagined memories of light. This was the darkness of the man born with no eyes. For that matter, no ears, nose, mouth, or nerves at all. Harry could not tell if he was sitting, standing, or even had a body. Time may have passed, or not, or gone backwards, or not existed at all. There was no point of reference for anything at all.

In short, he was aware of nothing. Seemingly contradictorily, he was oddly cognizant that he was aware of nothing. The contrast of his memories and this all-encompassing nothingness indicated that there hadn’t always been only this void.

Detachedly, Harry wondered if he was dead. He felt vaguely disappointed, as he had always imagined light and fluffy clouds in Heaven, and at least heat and fire in Hell. This afterlife, if that’s what it was, could quite possibly be very boring.

Harry continued to contemplate the nothing as best as he was able.

OoOoOoOoO

The deadweight of the centre head was enough to allow Voldemort to dodge the dog’s first lunge. He quickly loosed a second Killing Curse at the body, but the spell slid off the dog’s fur like mud off a Niffler. Then the centre head reanimated, and the whole dog lunged again.

Voldemort was very intrigued by the beast. The dog having three heads was interesting enough, since he had heard of few animals with multiple heads. The only one that came immediately to mind was the Hydra. The fact that it appeared to have three souls… and that it appeared to have a soul anchor… _simply remarkable._ _Was it the body or the other souls that were acting as the soul anchor?_ Voldemort had to resist the urge to throw three Killing Curses at it to answer that question, as Quirrel was incapable of producing and channelling that much magic in such a short time. Fiendfyre was out of the question, and other curses seemed to glide over its fur much like the first.

He tried to manipulate the flagstones into a protective wall, but the room walls, floor, and ceiling appeared to be warded against Transfiguration. A giant paw slammed into Quirrel’s body, pinning him to the floor, but Voldemort was able to regain some breathing room with a heavy Banisher.

Voldemort rose to his feet even as he conjured Bluebell Flames in front of the beast’s three heads. The dog cringed back, swiping at the air with its huge paws. He moved his wand again, conjuring caltrops and banishing them under and around the dog. The Cold Fire was being dispersed by the magic-repelling fur as the dog swatted them from the air, but its paws landed on the spikes, causing it to rear up again in pain.

“ _Incendio!_ ”

A blast of real fire caught the beast in the chest, burning away at the hair. Voldemort kept up the stream of flame, even as the dog charged him, mad with pain and rage. The wizard banished one of its legs, making it stumble mid-run, and followed up with a succession of cutting and piercing curses directed at the burned area. Blood spurted from the wound and the dog staggered even more. The left head snapped at him, but Voldemort sent another Cutter into its mouth, and turned back to barrage the chest. It seemed that the bones were somewhat resistant too, but not to the extent that the fur was. Shortly, the rib cage gave way, and he managed to pierce the heart.

Unfortunately, there was no time to investigate this interesting creature further. Voldemort hurried to the far door. Lacking time for subtlety, he broke this locking charm with magical brute force and opened the door.

Runic scripts blanketed the wall in this narrow room, but Voldemort suspected that they were mere misdirection. Normally, the only visible scripts in a security ward related to the deactivation or “unlocking” sequence. In cheaper household wards, it was sometimes possible to guess the runic sequence, the “key” required to temporarily disable the wards, from the context of the visible script. However, Dumbledore wouldn’t skimp on the Stone’s protection, and so any visible script would either give no or bad information about the warding scheme.

There was a door with a large knob and keyhole set into the wall, but that was likely just another ruse. There were also innumerable indentations and crevices set into the stone, any of which could be the actual keyhole. Trying to ascertain the correct unlocking sequence and correct spot to insert it would likely be an exercise in futility.

If he had several days with no concerns about being interrupted, Voldemort might have investigated the extent of the warded walls, and then warded around them to disperse ambient magic. Eventually, the inner wards would run out of energy and would fail. If he instead had his original body, he might have tried attacking a single point on the wall, trying to overwhelm the ward’s ability to disperse outside magic. However, Quirrel’s body would not be able to channel the necessary power. He wished that Dumbledore was dead so that he could simply take the ward key off his corpse, but the outer lock disproved that possibility.

Voldemort stood back a bit and began testing the ward. He sent several blasting and explosive curses, and attempted to transfigure and vanish parts of the wall and door. All the magic was simply absorbed by the surface. He attempted a bastardized Extension Charm on one of the potential keyholes that looked like it might go into the next chamber. There was, again, no effect. He sprayed conjured acid from his wand. The acid splashed on an invisible barrier just in front of the wall and fell to the floor, where it began eating into the flagstones.

Voldemort closely examined the multitude of keyholes. Choosing another one that appeared to penetrate the wall, he poked at it with a quill from his pocket. The quill was repelled from the wall’s surface just like the acid. He moved quickly back to the body of the dog and extracted a small piece of an already-splintered rib. He hollowed it out by sending an overpowered Drilling Charm through the bone marrow, and then jammed it into the largest “through” keyhole.

There was a fair amount of repulsive force from the barrier, but the magic-resistant cortical bone dispersed the ward enough to go through it. Voldemort pushed Quirrel’s wand through the hollow middle of the rib, thankful that it was Quirrel’s wand and not his own being subjected to this. He conjured acid, and allowed it to drip down the inside of the wall. Eventually, the acid destroyed sufficient amounts of the runic structure to weaken the shield in the section below the keyhole. He extracted the wand and transfigured the wall to give himself a hole to crawl through.

Unfortunately, Quirrel’s body was tiring rapidly from the repeated spellcasting and the need to overpower all the spells for dealing with the dog. Fortunately, there appeared to be no further protections. The only object in the small room was a box with a multitude of wards over every face of it. The light in the room was too dim to be certain, but the box appeared to be of the style designed for transport, so it was possible that Voldemort could remove it and study it at his leisure for later opening. However, he would need time to ascertain if that was the case. Abruptly, Voldemort ducked away from his freshly-made crawl-hole when a powerful explosive curse sailed through the space where his head had been.

Dumbledore had arrived.

OoOoOoOoO

Something was here. Harry wasn’t sure when the Something had arrived, or if it had always been there and he just hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was certainly different from the nothing that still surrounded him.

Now that there was some kind of reference, Harry tried to experiment with a few other things. He still could not see or hear. His body still did not appear to exist. He tried to move closer to the Something, willing himself to walk or swim or float towards it. He soon gave that up, as he could not determine the distance or direction of the Something. He didn’t even know how he knew that the Something was there, only that he had an overwhelming feeling of familiarity.

Harry had never known his father or grandfather, but he imagined that this might be the kind of familiar, or even familial, feeling he would get around them. It was a little like the feeling he got when Professor Dumbledore spoke at the end of the Start-of-Term Feast. It wasn’t necessarily a safe or comforting feeling. Just such a strong familiarity, as if he had known the person or place his whole life. As if he was running his fingers through his hair or over his other hand. As if the Something was a part of him, or maybe he was a part of the Something.

Then the Something reached into the piece of the nothingness that was Harry, and ripped him in two.

OoOoOoOoO

Dumbledore stared as the man he thought he knew moved with preternatural speed out of the path of the spell that he couldn’t have even seen coming. Quirrel’s voice held an unfamiliar cadence and malice as he hissed, “Dumbledore.”

“Quirinus, et al,” responded the Headmaster.

Dumbledore sent a jet of conjured water shooting towards the hole in the formerly-warded wall, as flames flew out of it towards him. The resulting steam blocked his view temporarily, so he switched to freezing the air and water, converting the ice into jagged spikes in the next instant. A hiss of pain came from inside the vault, and Dumbledore ran forward, erecting a shield in front of him as a precaution. A flurry of Piercing Hexes deflected off his shield, but Dumbledore could see that Quirrel, or whoever was controlling him, had used the damage his explosive curse had caused to the far wall’s wards to vanish a part of it. Quirrel was dragging the runéd box behind him as an effective shield as he crawled into the next room.

The next room acted as part of the buffer area around the vault as well, and was similarly warded to be impenetrable from the outside, lacking even a key to enter. However, Quirrel would be able to simply damage the runes from the inside and escape the same way. Fortunately, his progress would be inhibited significantly by the the heavy, uncharmable box.

Dumbledore paused at the room’s opening, detecting no footsteps or other sounds indicative of Quirrel’s departure. Deciding that charging directly into the ambush would be poor strategy, he furtively began disrupting wards on a nearby section of wall to create a different entrance to the room. Disregarding recent events in the Great Hall, he called, “I do not suppose you would wish to give yourself up, Quirinus? The Aurors would be more lenient towards attempted theft rather than attempted murder.”

Quirrel scoffed from his position on the other side of the wall. “As if the Aurors would prevent Flamel from exacting his own vengeance.”

Dumbledore could hear the fatigue in his voice, and decided it would be best to act while he was still recovering. The Headmaster ran at the section of wall he’d been quietly eroding, vanishing it at the last moment. Quirrel spun around from the original opening in the wall he’d been guarding, but was too slow. Dumbledore was able to release powerful cutting curse, before he tripped over a taut wire that had been transfigured in that place to stymie just such a flanking attempt. Quirrel managed to produce a shield, but the curse had been aimed at his still-turning legs, and hamstrung him in a spray of blood.

Dumbledore hit the ground heavily, and wished that he were younger and still able to roll out of falls like this one. Quirrel snarled with pain and rage, and tried to cast the Killing Curse, even as he fell. No green light appeared, and Dumbledore pressed the advantage of Quirrel’s exhaustion, even from his prone position. A series of cutting hexes and heavy bludgeoners, mixed with Stunners and Banishers left the Elder Wand at blinding speed. From his own fallen position, Quirrel was forced to blanket shield as he tried to roll back to the vault room. His shield broke first though, and his wand hand was severed. A Banisher knocked him back into the wall, before several Stunners finally finished the fight.

OoOoOoOoO

Hermione’s gaze travelled around the bookshop. Normally, her hands would be itching to grab books off the shelves, but now they were shaking from fear and exhaustion. They had been almost to the doors in the Great Hall when Professor Flitwick dove through them and she was sent flying away. She had watched with terrifying clarity as the Troll’s club had smashed open the door, before she hit the ground and rolled painfully. Then she had crawled under a table and hidden while the students stampeded back.

When they were finally called to move through the doors again, she saw only the blackened Entrance Hall, with small pools of melted stone at the sides. There was no sign of the Trolls, not even their characteristic smell. The only thing left was the terrible, oppressive heat all around her.

Then, they had half-walked, half-ran down to the nearby village. Professor Snape had led, while Professors Sprout and Flitwick had flanked the group with wary eyes and wands drawn. Her Head of House had taken half of the students to shelter in the bookstore, while Professor Snape had led the other half to a nearby pub. Through several pairs of students’ legs, Hermione could see Professor Sprout speaking into the fireplace.

Hermione just couldn’t understand what had been happening. _What had been banging on the main door? Was it a bigger Troll? But the school nurse had said something about a snake. What had happened to Sally-Anne? And to that other girl and the nurse?_ Hermione could see them all on the ground next to Professor Sprout. _Were they dead? Why were they so stiff? Rigor mortis? Some kind of spell like the Body-Bind Jinx?_

Hermione reached out and grabbed a large tome from the shelf next to her. She didn’t open it, just hugged it to her chest like a soft toy. _At least Harry is alright_ , she thought. _Professor Quirrel can protect him_.

OoOoOoOoO

Pain. That had become the entirety of Harry’s universe. All-encompassing, all-consuming pain. The pain wasn’t _in_ anything. He had no hands or feet or head. It was a pain that pervaded his entire being. And with it came the feeling of wrongness. He felt like he had just lost an arm… or all the feeling in his legs. Part of him had been ripped away, and there was a sense of violation that came with the wrongness that was almost as bad as the pain. Almost.

The pain was so complete that, at first, he didn’t notice the addition of pins and needles. He didn’t notice feeling colder than he’d ever been before. He didn’t notice how much breathing _hurt_ , until his stomach lurched violently.

Harry’s stomach quickly emptied itself through his nose and mouth. His arms and legs twitched convulsively as his brain reconnected with the ability to control his limbs. He fell out of the chair at the desk he’d been slumped over, fortunately to the side opposite his vomit. Still twitching and shivering, Harry curled into a ball on the floor, clutching at his chest. A low, anguished moan built up behind Harry’s lips, and tears fell from his eyes. Heavy sobs mixed with almost inhuman cries of loss echoed through the empty hall.

OoOoOoOoO

Dumbledore climbed gingerly to his feet, feeling every day of his many years. He picked up and pocketed Quirrel’s wand, before turning to the man himself. Not feeling terribly charitable, the Headmaster cauterized the slash through Quirrel’s ankle instead of healing it, before pulling his hands and legs behind his back and conjuring cords to secure him.

Dumbledore then proceeded to successively vanish each article of his Defence Professor’s clothing to ensure that the man wouldn’t have access to any other wands or weapons if he awoke. Items dropped from the robe pockets, and Dumbledore immediately banished them to the far end of the room to look at later. It was only upon vanishing the turban that Dumbledore got an indication of something very wrong.

A noxious green gas, released from the confines of a warded pouch inside the garment, expanded quickly. Dumbledore only caught a whiff through his larger-than-average nose before his Bubblehead Charm was up, but it was enough to send him into a coughing fit. He scrambled backwards, still fighting for breath, as Quirrel’s head began dissolving from the high concentrations of acidic vapour.

Dumbledore sucked in breaths of pure air, trying to disperse the poison in his lungs. He attempted to vanish all the air around Quirrel, but was unable to summon the necessary focus to get it all. A coughing fit later, he tried again. All the accessible air around Quirrel, containing most of the poison, was vanished. An enormous pop sounded from the surrounding air rushing into the vacuum. Parts of the dissolving Quirrel also rushed into the vacuum, making the fresh corpse even messier.

Unfortunately, from the amount that Dumbledore moved around and the time that it took, there was probably a significant amount of poison that had already spread out through the room. At this point, the only thing he could do was dilute it as much as possible. Feeling blackness creeping in at the edges of his vision, he cast a wind spell to circulate the air. Another coughing fit sent him to his knees. He really hoped that he hadn’t inhaled a fatal amount of the poison.

Dumbledore recast the Bubblehead Charm, hoping it would stay up even when he was unconscious, before passing out on the stone floor.

* * *

 

Omake:

Harry opened his eyes to see only darkness. He tried to feel around him, but felt nothing touch his hands. He couldn’t even tell if he was lying down or standing.

“What happened?” Harry said, unsure if he voiced the question aloud or merely thought it.

_YOU WERE STRUCK BY THE KILLING CURSE_ , a voice rang through Harry’s head, _AGAIN._

The darkness coalesced into a tall figure shrouded in a black cloak. The figure approached, and its skeletal visage and large scythe served to confirm its identity.

“So, I’m dead now?” Harry asked sadly.

_YOU ARE… MOSTLY DEAD._

“What?”

_YOUR BODY HOUSED MORE THAN ONE SOUL. I WILL TAKE THE FRAGMENT, SHOULD YOU WISH TO BE SAVED._

“I… I don’t want to be dead.” Harry paused, considering the apparent Grim Reaper’s words. “But why are you saving me?”

_FOR LATER._

OoOoOoOoO

Harry sat in the hospital wing giving his statement to the Aurors.

“…Then Professor Quirrel pointed his wand at me and said, _‘Abracadabra’_. And then I died.”

The Aurors had stopped writing and were staring at Harry incredulously.

“What?” he asked defensively. “I got better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three references in that omake! Sorry, I just couldn’t resist.  
>   
> I hope that my explanation of the wards and ward keys used in this chapter makes sense, and is sufficiently different from stories I’ve seen before. If there’s any confusion, let me know and I can go into more detail.


End file.
